FT MEADE 
GenCol 1 




COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 







TEARS & SMILES 



By 

A. H. PROPPER 



Broadway Publishing Company 
835 Broadway y Yorl^ 


COPYEIGHT. 1909. 


All Rights Rsssrvsd 


Cl. A. 2C45 9 2 
AUG 2 1909 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The Gentile i 

An Odd Fellow 38 

Brother Masons 73 



Tears and Smiles 


THE GENTILE. 

The boardinghouse was a recent conversion 
from the magnificent home of the ex mayor, 
whose modesty had been so shocked when a new 
school building had been named for him by the 
grateful citizens of the Southern metropolis, that 
he went to Boston to live, where the zephyrs 
from the directions of the Charles River and the 
Bay would have occasion to cool off his blushes. 

A gentleman called in answer to an advertise- 
ment. He was shown to the parlor to-let, and 
told that it was the sanctum of many a page in 
the annals. To avoid his misclassifying of the 
place as an historical point he was shown to a 
spot in the library where stood Grover, made of 
bamboo and rattan, and named after a then 
President, under whose weight it has broken 
down for the first time, and held sacred ever 
after. 

It may be needless to state that both the floor 
and the chair were at this time in good repair. 

The parlor was elegant and immaculate, the 
same as when Colonel Bryan was received there 
during his candidacies, when he developed his 
new profession of lecturer, which he now pur- 


Tears and Smiles 


a 

sues as a means of amassing fortunes.^ Every 
piece of furniture and brie a brae was still in the 
place where the late mayor left it, even to the 
marble statue of the Fountain of Love, with the 
pretty semi-nude virgin upon the pedestal, catch- 
ing the bounty of the fountain in a cockle held 
high in a dimpling hand with a broken forefinger. 
Just two pieces have been added to the original 
garniture, the folding bed and the piano. 

“We have the finest boarders in town,” said 
Miss Miriam, “everyone can tell you that. We 
are known by the swellest folks. We belong 
to the smart set. We do not have to keep board- 
ers, we just like to do it. You are a fine gentle- 
man, and we will let you have this, the best room 
in the house. You are single, are you not?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. We don’t want no married folks in 
here. We don’t like lady boarders nohow. They 
are too much bother.” 

“Too bad.” 

“Yes, they’re never satisfied. They always 
talk behind your back, and to your face they 
always repeat things others say behind you. Then 
again, they are jealous of you, and they always 
keep you in hot water.” 

“Shocking.” 

“Yes, it is. Here we have a Mrs. Lowenheim. 
Her husband was brought home dead from 
Louisville, where he committed suicide. He was 
a traveling man, in the whiskey business. He 
had been treasurer for the Elk lodge; but his 

folks paid all his debts after he died ” 

• “Yes?” 


Tears and Smiles 


3 


'^Yes, and he just died ten days ago, and she 
had already forgotten him, except when she is 
blue, when she cries like a spanked kid. She 
backbites everybody, even now, when she ought 
to have on her weeds and be sanctimonious/’ 

^'What will you charge for this room and 
board ?” 

“The gentleman who just vacated it paid $90 
a month — that is — that is how much he would 
have paid, but — eh — he forgot to pay or some- 
thing — he owes it to my mother. Everybody 
takes advantage of my foolish mother. Here we 
have a Mrs. Bauck. Her husband is a floor 
walker in a department store. Her boy is seven 
years old, and my brother, Cyrill, is three; and 
that big boy — she allows him and encourages him 
to beat my baby brother. She thinks it is fun to 
watch him doing it. It nearly kills my mother, 
and yet she would not say a word to her. She 
is just so good, and ” 

“Who is the landlady. Miss?” 

“Why, I am, of course.” 

“You are quite young for all these respon- 
sibilities.” 

“Well, I am nineteen. I have a sister seven- 
teen, and my little brother. I am the one that 
does the business. My mother leaves it all to me. 
My father just died a year ago. We used to 
keep a grocery. Formerly we had a saloon. Say, 
that is bad business ! We lived on the floor above 
the saloon. On Sundays bums would come and 
want to buy whiskey. We would not let them 
have it. Then they would get mad and get us 
arrested for keeping open on Sundays. Just be- 


4 


Tears and Smiles 


fore my pappa died, he was in bed; he had the 
locomotive ataxia — he was sued and fined $ioo — 
for nothing. Those bums, if you don’t cater to 
them, would swear to anything.” 

“Your father died,” repeated the stranger, 
pensively. 

“Yes, of the locomotive ** 

“That is a bad motive.” 

“I know. Mrs. Bauck has it too. She is a 
funny dried up little woman, and when she gets 
mad her feet wiggle like two shaky sticks. She 
is so funny ” 

“Do you really mean that you would charge 
one ninety dollars for that room and board?” 

“Well, you see, that is the best room. We have 
a big rent to pay — $125 a month.” 

“How many rooms have you in the house?” 

“About twenty, I should think.” 

“And how is your board?” 

“I know you will like it.” 

“Show me some other room, will you?” 

“Miriam, Miriam,” called a feminine voice 
from the rear, “you are wanted at the ’phone.” 

“All right, Fannie, you show the gentleman 
through the house.” 

The younger sister relieved Miss Miriam, and 
showed the prospector through the second floor. 

“What is the price of this one?” 

“Thirty five a month, with board.” 

“Quite a difference between this and the 
parlor.” 

“Well, you see, we pay a big rent, ninety 
dollars a month, and the parlor, being the best 
room, ought to bring ten dollars more than this.” 


Tears and Smiles S 

*^How much is that you charge for the parlor ?” 

‘^Forty five a month.” 

‘‘With whom should the arrangements be 
made, yourself or your sister.” 

“Either me or my mother. Sister has nothing 
to do with the business end of it. Of course, 
she helps around the house.” 

The caller began to wonder whether it was 
really a boarding house or a sanitarium. Indeed 
he began to doubt his own mental balance. 

“May I see your mother? I should much 
rather make my arrangements with her.” 

“Sure. Mamma, Mamma,” she called, “come 
upstairs.” 

“I’ll come up in a minute.” 

And she did. She was a pretty little lady, 
dark complexioned and of Semitic type, rather 
young looking for a mother of two grown 
daughters. 

The landlady sat upon the bed. So did Miss 
Fannie, and the stranger. 

“I thought I’d speak to you. I prefer to trans- 
act business with the mother ” 

“Sure,” she approved, “these kids don’t know 
nothin’ about business. They are just kids.” 

Fannie began to snicker. “No I ain’t either. 
Did not I use to go to Market every morning 
when we used to keep grocery?” still giggling. 

“You did,” assented the mother, “but you are 
a kid just the same.” 

“I ain’t either.” 

The landlady explained that she had never 
been in this business before, although several of 
her sisters have made successes in the boarding 


Tears and Smiles 


house line; that she was left a widow, and tried 
to do some respectable work, in order not to 
waste the estate left by her husband. 

Referring to the parlor, she said that there had 
been a man and wife in it, who paid $50 a month 
for their room and board, but that she did not 
like them and asked them to vacate ; and that she 
would prefer a single gentleman, who would pay 
$35 a month for his accommodations. 

“But that is very cheap, madam.’' 
i “I want people to be satisfied. If I could get 
enough nice men to fill up the house at that 
price, I would be satisfied.” 

“I’ll take it. Gentry is my name.” 

“I am Mrs. Eppstein, Mr. Gentile. What a 
funny name you got. We have very fine people 
in the house. Dr. Blumenstock, Mrs. Reidel- 
sheimer, an insurance lady, Mr. Raphael, a pawn- 
broker, Mr. Heimlich, a retired horse dealer, Mr. 
Hermann, a clothinger, Mr. Rosenbaum, a travel- 
ing man, Mr. Weinstein, a shoe salesman, and 
lots of other fine people, who do not live here, but 
just come in for their meals. This is my daugh- 
ter, Miss Fannie Eppstein, Mr. Gentile.” 

Courtesies by the young lady and the gentle- 
man. 

I Mrs. Eppstein set a fine table. The newcomer 
■was called Mr. Gentile, and when absent he was 
referred to as the gentile. Nor did he care to 
stop and correct the misunderstanding of his 
name. It amused him. 

The dinner bell rang. News had gone through 
the house that there was a new boarder, a gentile. 

Everyone was introduced at the dinner table. 


Tears and Smiles 


7 


either by the landlady or by her daughters or by 
the boarders, as strangers would meet, to the oc- 
cupant of the room with the statue of the Foun- 
tain of Love, in the old accepted form : 

“Mr. Blumenstock, this is Mr. Gentile. Mr. 
Gentile, this is Mr. Blumenstock.” 

“Mr. Goldberger, this is Mr. Gentile. Mr. 
Gentile, this is Mr. Goldberger.” 

“Mr. Weinstein, let me present to you Mr. Gen- 
tile. Mr. Gentile, Mr. Weinstein.” 

“Mr. Goldman, I have the pleasure of introduc- 
ing to you Mr. Gentile. Mr. Gentile, this is Mr. 
Goldman.” 

“My cousin. Miss Fightman, Mr. Gentile. 
Cousin, this is Mr. Gentile.” 

“This is Miss Kohn, a typewritist, Mr. Gentile. 
Miss Kohn, this is Mr. Gentile.” 

“This is Mr. Gentile, Mrs. Wiseman. Mr. 
Gentile, this is Mrs. Wiseman.” 

And so forth. 

At the table Mr. Goldblatt related that he had 
an uncle in Chicago who was worth a lot of 
money, and that he obtained some more, with his 
new wife. He also said that he had sold two 
violins that cost him $3.25 apiece wholesale, at 
eighteen dollars apiece, to two friends of his, 
that day. He mentioned several other deals, in- 
cluding that he bought a bargain from a negro, a 
watch worth $40, for $6.25. 

Mr. Firestein, being in the same line of busi- 
ness, and somewhat envious of Goldblatt’ s in- 
genuity as a business man, expressed his doubts 
as to the verity of the statements. The latter 
began to splutter with rage. A conflict was 


s 


Tears and Smiles 


averted by the diplomacy of Mr. Marx, who 
laughed it off, saying that Mr. Firestein was such 
a wag, and liked so much to tease people, that if 
they did not know him they would actually get 
mad. 

The irritated Mr. Goldblatt was so bloated with 
fury, and yet so much too proud to show it, that 
he smirked with the outer coat of his puffing 
cheeks, while from under the muscles a volcano 
of anger struggled for recognition. 

Mrs. Einstein said that she had sold fourteen 
hats that morning at Hartenstein’s, and that she 
was going to ask for a raise next Saturday. She 
said her customers just loved her, that she was a 
drawing card to a millinery department, because 
she knows just what a woman wants the moment 
she looks at her, and that if she would not get the 
raise, she would go back to Reich’s, where she 
had worked for seven years before she married 
her first husband. 

Miss Altman wished she had a glass of beer, 
said she loved beer, and could not see how any- 
one could live without it. 

Mr. Silver stein told her he would take her out 
some evening and treat her to a glass. She as- 
sured him that would be lovely. 

Mr. Goodman had a good laugh on a country- 
man. The customer asked for a suit of clothes. 
The best Goodman had were $8.50 suits. The 
customer tried on a number of them, but he did 
not like any. The merchant was worried. He 
was anxious to make a sale. Mentally he quoted 
poker philosophy, ‘Tt is not holding a good hand, 
but playing a poor hand well.” The tiller of the 


Tears and Smiles 


9 

soil did not like the quality. In vain did Good- 
man tell him that the regular price of the article 
was $14, and that it was only reduced because of 
having too many of them in stock. The customer 
was just about to go. 

‘"At last,” continued Goodman, “I asked him if 
he would go as high as $15. The farmer said he 
would, for a fine garment. So I took out one of 
the many suits he already had tried on, from a 
pile, and sold him for $15 what he at first would 
not take for $8.50.” 

“That happens among swell customers,” re- 
marked Mr. Newman, who conducted a merchant 
tailoring establishment. “I often have to play 
that trick on some of the most prominent people. 
They like the pattern of a $20 suit, but the price 
is too cheap for them, so we sell the same thing 
from another pile at $40. If that were not the 
art, there would be nothing to salesmanship. The 
man has the money to spend, and the salesman 
who will not make him spend it in his store is not 
worth the space he occupies.” | 

“No wonder they have it in for the whole 
race,” interjected Mr. Mannheimer, “if so muchj 
cheating is being done by Jews.” | 

“Jews nothing,” answered Mr. Lebowitz, the 
traveling salesman, angrily, “everybody does it.l 
It is business. There are fools who will not do 
any business unless you fool them just like that. 
A man pays a big rent, electric light, help, taxes,! 
takes care of a family,, and would be apt to lose! 
a customer who refuses to do business with him 
unless he fooled him. Such people ought to be 
soaked, Gentiles soak them too. \ 


10 


Tears and Smiles 


‘Tndeed they do,” said Miss Barnette, the 
modiste, ‘T did more cheating where I worked 
in Indianapolis than since I work for Jews, and 
received just half as much wages. I am willing 
to go to church with my fellow Christians, but as 
for work, a job in a Jew store for mine.” 

‘^Gee whizz,” exclaimed Mrs. McKenna, the 
widow of a real estate man, ‘"you worruk another 
few years for them Sheeneys, and you’ll be one 
yersilf. Oi think you are a traitor to jabber like 
that.” 

^'Well, it is true,” said the modiste. 

‘'Look here, madam,” said Mr. Lawrence, a 
reporter, "there is a fellow named Johnamaker 
in Philadelphia, who makes large profits on his 
goods, gives thousands of dollars to the Church, 
and pays smaller wages than any other store, 
large or small, there. The money he gives to the 
church advertises his business, and that is why 
he does it. All the big stores take goods back and 
no questions are asked if customers are dissatis- 
fied, and moneys are returned. Johnamaker does 
that too, but only nominally. No man ever got 
a cent back from his store without losing ten 
dollars’ worth of time, and then, in many cases 
people drop the subject, because they tire run- 
ning to his store, and lose both returned goods 
and money. This man is not a Jew. Look at the 
political scandals he is continuously involved in, 
and because he is rich, they cannot hurt him. 
Even the newspapers of his city are gagged as 
against him, because he is their biggest advertiser. 
Look at the state capitol graft game in Penn^ 


Tears and Smiles 


II 


sylvania, not a Jew in it, and many thieves who 
teach Bible classes at home. Look at Rocker ’’ 

“Shtop, Mr. La’rins. I undershtand you are 
the son of a preacher.’^ 

“Yes, and proud of it.’’ 

“An’ is that the wa’ to talk about Christian 
inshtithushons ?” 

“No, just about men who use the church as a 
license for fraud.” 

“I don’t like to butt in,” said Mr. Gazelle, “but 
this is on the level. I saw last year before 
Christmas, shaving brushes sold in Marshal 
Yield’s retail store in Chicago at $3 apiece. They 
cost $5.10 a dozen wholesale. Elsewhere they re- 
tailed at 75c apiece. I am in the business, and 
I ought to know. I don’t champion anyone, but 
this is on the square ” 

“They ought to pay more before Christmas,” 
argued Mrs. KcKenna. 

“And why,” retorted Miss Barnette, “because 
the customers think that if it is marked $3 in a 
fine store it must be a better grade, and because 
Christmas is a Christian institution, when people 
are prone to be easy, you think millionaire busi- 
ness men ought to take advantage of it. Take the 
case of the clergy and the church ” 

“Shthop right there,” ordered Mrs. McKenna, 
“you are an A. P. A., and you know it, and you 
must not thry to desicrate the church ” 

“Ladies,” interrupted Miss Fannie. 

“What is it, me darlint. I know ye. You 
don’t want us to argye, do you. Bliss the very 
soul of ye.” 

*T’ll tell you what kind of a girl I am,” volun^ 


12 


Tears and Smiles 


teered Mrs. Lowenheim, laying down her fork to 
enable her hands to arrange her disheveled 
pompadour, ‘T am funny, but if I like a person 
I like them no matter what they are, until they 
get to backbiting me. I once had a friend, oh my, 
how much I did for that girl, and I never said an 
unkind word of her. I never speak ill of anyone, 
even of my enemies. Her name was TiUy — ^Tilly 
Steinberger — ; and she told so many lies about 
me. I was so good to her. When my husband was 
living, we took her out to Glendale Park once. 
She was nothing but a shop girl; and I thought 
she was a perfect lady. But I found her out all 
right. Why, she is the meanest thing I ever saw, 
and lie? Oh my! She was so deceitful. I 
would have done anything for her. In fact I feel 
kindly toward her now. But she is the meanest, 
most deceitful creature. I got her the job she has 
had for so many years and is still holding. I used 
to work in the same store, in the underwear de- 
partment, from the time I was twelve years old 
until I married. The next chance I will have. 
I’ll see Mr. Kahn. I’ll put a bug in his ear. I 
will have her discharged if it is the last act of 
my life. That mean female — I could kill that 
serpent, that she cat, I will ” 

“An’ she is a perfect lady,” contradicted Mrs. 
McKenna, “if she is a crucifyer. Oi’ve known 
her longer an’ better than you have.” 

“I’ll tell you what I wish I had,” spurted Mr. 
Wiseburg, who has not been heard from in some 
time, “I wish I had fifty million dollars.” 

“Is that all?” asked the gentile, with a yawn, 
* Vhat would you do ?” 


Tears and Smiles 


13 


''Nothing.” 

"I could get a few thousand dollars. A mar- 
riage broker wants me to marry a widow. She 
has a fine store, too,” put in Mr. Adelman, the 
retail merchant; “he just begs me to enter the 
agreement. But I prefer to wait, I am not so old 
yet.” 

“She must need one badly,” added Mrs. Man- 
delbaum, an elderly lady. 

“You think no one is as good as your son, don^t 
you,” protested the embarrassed Adelman. 

“Certainly you are not, and what is more, I 
would rather kill my Leopold than see him ask a 
marriage broker to do his courting and arrange 
his ante-nuptial alfairs.” 

“Well, I won’t say no more,” grunted the 
humiliated candidate, as he left the table. 

“I lost ten cents somewhere,” complained the 
landlady. “I mislaid a dime.” 

Everyone had said something, except Maxmil- 
ian Bever. He wasithe most despised in the house. 
He has not been as long in America as the rest. 
He was a workingman, engaged in a shoe factory. 
He was one of the recent victims of Jewish per- 
secution in Roumania, and because he was more 
foreign than the rest, they regarded him as a sort 
of parasite upon their country. 

II. 

After the dining room was vacated Gentry took 
a rocker on the porch, in a corner whence he 
could see in either of the four directions in which 
the crossing streets ran. There he was shaded by 


Tears and Smiles 


*14 

the morning glories and the magnolia, and 
watched the sunbeams struggling through the 
vines and the leaves onto the wall; anon he 
skimmed over some periodicals and made nota- 
tions in his vade mecum, and pondered over the 
variety of the classes of humanity he had met, 
making mental comparisons as it were, when the 
landlady seated herself within a few feet of him. 

^‘They have some elevating topics — very inspir- 
ing indeed — at the table. Is it that way at every 
meal ?” 

‘T don’t understand some of your words. ‘Ele- 
vating,’ ‘inspiring,’ ‘topics’ — I don’t know what 
they mean,” said the landlady, who had spent her 
childhood abroad, and had lacked some chances in 
life. 

“I mean, they talk some fine things at the 
table.” 

“What do you care. Let them talk. Talk is 
cheap.” 

“You must enjoy the company of your board- 
ers.” 

“I’ll tell you how boarders are. Each one tries 
to show off how smart they are. I don’t pay any 
attention to them — let them talk. It is funny, and 
they do no harm.” 

“That is a good way to take it.” 

“Well, what can I do? I cannot stop them. I 
have troubles of my own.” 

“Troubles?” 

“Troubles indeed. There is Mrs. Lowenheim. 
She tells everybody that my board is no good, and 
why don’t she move away? I don’t want her. 
She is — what they call— jealous. You know, she 


Tears and Smiles 


15 


wants to be my partner. I don’t want any part- 
ner, and I told her that she is welcome to buy me 
out. I spent a lot of money buying everything 
except the ground and the building, and then I 
improved a few things. I told her she could get 
the place if she bought my things and my lease; 
that I was willing to sell out, but would have no 
partner. Well, she don’t want to do that. Now 
she always talks behind my back, thinking she 
would ruin my business, get me out, and then she 
would rent the place.” 

“You mean the little woman, whose husband 
committed suicide a few days ago?” 

“Yes, yes; the one that said at the table what 
kind a girl she was. Fine girl !” 

The little landlady started to laugh, and 
chuckled and giggled till she could not stop. “She 
got a boy, thirteen years old; he is bigger than 
his mother. Her sister lives here too, have you 
seen her? The sister says she hates men. She 
never was married. She is forty-seven years old. 
They all make that excuse for not having been 
married. They all hate them — because they don’t 
come — ” 

“You are an observer, are not you?” 

“No, I am a widow.” 

The poor little woman had a fine sense of 
humor. Too bad she could not understand the 
language better. 

At supper the gentile was not on time. Gold- 
stein wondered what his occupation was. New- 
man wondered whether he was married. Gold- 
blatt wondered why, of all the boarding houses 
in the city, the gentile selected that place. The 


1 6 Tears and Smiles 

gentile was tall, the gentile was athletic, the gen- 
tile was mysterious. The gentile did not partake 
in many discussions. The gentile did not brag. 
He did not flash three karat diamonds and yellow 
oxchains. He did not rise early. He came and 
went at irregular hours. He never talked busi- 
ness. He never talked money. He was fonder 
of children than of other company. All these 
anomalies had been laboriously discussed when 
he entered and took his place. 

‘What is your occupation?” asked Raphael, 
after long and careful meditation. 

‘T mind my business,” was the answer. 

“Stung!” exclaimed one of the boarders, tri- 
umphantly, amid the merry roars of the others 
at the table. 

The usually hilarious pawnbroker was much 
mortified, and the dazzling of the half dozen dia- 
monds which he continuously displayed did not 
have the power to outshine his humiliation. 

One morning all the bathrooms on the upper 
floors were locked. There were several married 
women in the house. All wanted the exclusive 
use of lavatories, and they conspired to have keys 
made secretly all at once, and carry their demands 
into execution. The men traveled up and down 
the stairs in their pajamas, howling at the land- 
lady, who did not know what it was all about. 

It was a strike, started by the widow. 

The gentile ofifered his bathroom and room to 
accommodate all who wished it. 

Such a scrambling for the lavatory! A half 
dozen entered at once. Mr. Hermann hung his 
clothes on the telephone transmitter. Mr. Gold-* 


Tears and Smiles 


17 

blatt threw his things on the desk. Mr. Pulsky 
flung his on the gas jet. Mr. Dunkelman sus- 
pended his unmentionables upon the dainty hand 
of the lady of the Fountain of Love, and in a few 
rninutes the palatial bachelor's room was rendered 
like unto a dressing room on the seashore. 

At supper, among other dishes, ham was 
served. The gentile did not eat anything that 
came from the pig. Everyone else did, except 
Maxmilian Bever, the Roumanian. 

‘'We reformed Jews eat pork," remarked Gold- 
stein, eating voraciously. 

‘Tt is kind of you," said the gentile, indiffer- 
ently. 

“Reformed !" repeated Bever, whose voice had 
not been heard for a long time, “What do you call 
reformed ?" 

“Reformed Jews are such as do not live up to 
the laws of Moses." 

“Then they are not Jews." 

“Well, what are they then 3" 

“Nothing." 

“Nothing, sir?" 

“Nothing. They are not Christians, because 
they do not believe in the divinity of Christ. 
They are not Jews, because they pollute with pork 
the race which has not touched unclean food, 
knowingly, for thousands of years." 

“Then you mean that you are a Jew and we 
are nothing?" protested Altman. 

“I do not know what you are. I know what I 
am. I have been taught that no one is a Jew who 
eats pork. That teaching is part of my religion 
and 1 believe it. I know many Christians who 


i8 Tears and Smiles 

would not eat pork. They say Jesus never 
touched pork. It is said, too, that pork is very 
rich food and provokes appetites for strong 
and abnormal antidoes, such as spirituous 
drinks 

“Would eating pork alone pollute one?'’ asked 
Mr. Newman. 

“Maybe not, but the breaking of the law 
would. The whole code of Moses consists of 
six hundred and thirteen laws. Before a Jewish 
boy is confirmed, he has to memorize the whole 
code, and pass the examination in open temple. 
Ten laws in that code are the ten commandments, 
and we have no more right to violate any of the 
other laws than we have to violate one of the 
commandments. One of those laws is against 
pork. The right of breaching one law licenses 
the breach of another. A good Jew will observe 
all the precepts as they existed at the destruc- 
tion of Jerusalem; and, if ever the Jews will have 
a country of their own, their parliament will 
have the right to change their laws, but not in- 
dividuals, who wish to ignore such laws as con- 
flict with their appetites." 

Everyone at the table was amazed. They did 
not think there was this much in the Roumanian. 

“Then you think we are criminals?" asked 
Mannheimer. 

“If you will read the Bible, you will find the 
answer. The Jews lost their country, and there- 
with their police power. Nothing is a crime, 
unless it is punishable by men. Men will not 
punish you in America for eating pork, working 
and doing business seven nights and days a week, 


Tears and Smiles 19 

and doing many other things against the Jewish 
law.’^ 

“But the rabbi of the Temple eats pork, and 
smokes cigars on Saturday.” 

“He must be the kind of rabbi as you are a 
Jew.” 

“Are we not good enough for you?” shouted 
the impatient Mr. Silverstein, with a thud of his 
fist upon the table. “We are doing big business 
and have plenty money, and you are nothing but 
a shophand. You still smell from the steerage. 
You want to teach us something?” 

“Come, come,” said the gentile. “There is a 
misundertsanding here. Mr. Bever only speaks 
law as it is written, scientifically. He is 
right ” 

“Right!” exclaimed Lebowitz, sarcastically. 
“A scientist! He is right! Look at the scien- 
tist! Behold the great exponent of science!” 

The chorus laughed in derision at the caustic 
words of Lebowitz. The gentile was anxious to 
restore order. 

“Gentlemen — the ladies are not in this — , is 
there one among you who can read Hebrew?” 

No answer. 

“Not one of you?” repeated the gentile. 

“I can,” whispered Bever, “and I can read and 
write and speak Yiddish.” 

“Well, I was born in this country,” chimed 
Mrs. Lowenheim, “where they do not teach such 
foolishness.” 

Bever and the gentile smiled furtively. 

“The fact is,” said the gentile, “that the pure 
food law, which Uncle Sam is trying to unriddle 


20 


Tears and Smiles 


now, has been solved by Moses, and all our so- 
called progress in that regard will not do half 
the good that a regress toward the time of Moses 
would/' 

Everyone listened awfully. 

''Every State in the Union has a constitution 
and thousands of laws. No lawyer knows them 
all. The chief justice does not know them all; 
and yet, the ignorance of all of them excuses no 
one ; and one who violates a law the existence of 
which he never heard of, is apt to be punished 
just the same as if he had intended to disregard 
and violate it knowingly. This problem has also 
been settled by Moses." 

"By Moses? How did he settle it?" demanded 
Mr. Heimlich. 

"How?" Why, just as Mr. Bever explained 
it. Before the confirmation the boy had memor- 
ized the 613 statutes, gradually, beginning as 
early as Christians do to study the Bible. After 
passing the examination he was confirmed, and 
told, as part of the ceremony, that henceforth he 
would be personally responsible for his actions." 

"Did you pass that examination, Mr. Bever?" 
asked Rosenbaum. 

"I did, and I have my phylacteries up in my 
room." 

"How does that prove it?" 

"They get that," explained the gentile, “upon 
passing the examination. Do you belong to a 
shule or synagogue, Mr. Rosenbaum?" 

"Noooooh. 

“Any of these gentlemen?" 

“I don^t/' was the unanimous reply. 


Tears and Smiles 


21 


“You do not belong to the Temple, you do not 
pray Hebrew,” continued Bever, much encour- 
aged by the moral support of the stranger, “you 
do not care about the laws of Moses — ^maybe you 
do not observe the holidays. Then how do you 
know you are Jews?” 

“I offer my face in evidence,” said Lawyer 
Finkelstein. 


III. 

Great was the commotion one evening, when 
Mr. Raphael was brought in on a stretcher. 

A negro had entered his pawnshop and asked 
for a loan on a brand new suit case. Raphael 
suspected that it was stolen, took the article from 
the customer, laid it behind his counter, went to 
the telephone and called No. 55. 

Fifty-five is the police department. 

The negro suspected that the pawn-broker 
called the police, so he bent over, took his suit 
case and started to run with it, when the pawn- 
broker caught him. 

The negro became mad and butted him up with 
his skull, then beat him with his fist, and then he 
bit into his face, his arm, into the fleshy part of 
his chest, and disabled him and fled. 

“What did you want to play policeman for,” 
asked one of the boarders, when the maimed 
Raphael was able. to appear at the table; “if you 
thought the article was stolen, could not you re- 
fuse to do business with the nigger?” 

“Well, the detectives expect us to help them 
catch thieves. I caught a number for them just 


22 


Tears and Smiles 


like that. I talk with the fellow, monkey around, 
make out I am busy for a minute, after I give 
the password to the police, until the coppers 
come and nab him ” 

“Suppose the nigger had killed you?’^ 

“He mighty like to did it. This is a mean 
business, mine is. We cannot help taking in or 
buying stolen goods sometimes, not knowing that 
they were stolen. Then if the police trace the 
goods, they invariably get us indicted. You know 
how much chance a Jewish pawn-broker ever has 
before a jury. Well, if we befriend the police, 
they overlook little things for us.” 

“You are dressed pretty warm for such hot 
weather,” said Miss Barnette. 

“It’s the bandages that make me look so stout. 
My arms, my whole body, all over — I am so 
bruised up ” 

“Cousin Abe,” chimed Mr. Hermann, “you 
know you always get in trouble with everybody. 
You talk too much, that is the trouble. I hope 
this will be a good lesson for you.” 

Cousin Abe recovered sufficiently to move about 
and attend to his business. He, like the rest, was 
extremely jealous of the Roumanian’s popularity 
with the gentile. 

The gentile and Bever were absent one even- 
ing, and, therefore, they were the topic. “I bet 
I could find out the gentile’s business, if I tried,” 
said Raphael. 

“That is easy,” said Miss Miriam; “he’ll tell 
it to you if you’ll ask him.” 

“I asked him once.” 

Everyone laughed. 


Tears and Smiles 


23 


'‘There is a time and place for everything. 
Maybe you asked him at the wrong time and at 
the wrong place,” said the young lady. 

More laughter. 

“You had better leave the gentile alone,” said 
his cousin, “you have not yet gotten over what 
the nigger did to you. Maybe the gentile just 
stays here because he thinks we are a circus and 
you are the clown.” 

More laughter. 

“What is the gentile writing all the time,” 
asked Rosenbaum, “when you look into his room, 
he is writing; when you see him on the porch, 
he is writing; he takes note books with him to 
the table, and writes while waiting for his ” 

“Mrs. Reidelsheimer asked him once,” said 
Raphael, “what he was writing so much for ; and 
he answered ‘for a living.’ Now, is that any 
satisfaction ?” 

“It is satisfaction enough,” said Solomonson, 
“to teach you to mind your business and let him 
mind his.” 

Bever entered, and general silence prevailed 
for a while. 

“I wonder if he has a wife,” suggested the 
pawn-broker, breaking the spell of silence. 

“I’ll ask him,” said the widow elect. Just then 
the subject of the curiosity entered. 

“It is so strange,” she remarked, with that 
singsong incidental to her language, “that one 
who has traveled as much as you have, should not 
have settled down and married.” 

“He is married,” put in Raphael, “I read it in 
the papers two days ago.” 


24 


Tears and Smiles 


Still no voice from the gentile. 

“I suppose it was probably a divorce/’ contin- 
ued the pawn-broker. 'T do not just remember 
whether it was a marriage or a divorce I read 
about you.” 

The stranger did not waste much time. He 
had seen meddlers and curious people before. He 
well knew that they did not even have his name 
right, and therefore could not recognize it in 
print if it had appeared. 

“Look here, young man,” he said, “I hereby 
notify you that if you ever talk to me again, I 
shall thrash you.” 

Silence reigned again until the gentile left the 
table. 

At another meal, when some young ladies were 
present as guests, and the crowd was unusually 
large, Mr. Goldstein stopped picking his teeth to 
speak. 

“Mr. Gentile, I should like to get your advice. 
I did not go to school much. Of course, I can 
read, write and figure, but that is all. I spent my 
early life trying to make money. I have suc- 
ceeded fairly well. I want an education. What 
would you advise me to do ?” 

“Go to school.” 

“I cannot,” picking his teeth again and talking 
with the other half of his mouth. “You see, I 
have no time. My business demands my atten- 
tion. I do wish you would tell me what books to 
get.” 

“Of course, you know, you must take one book 
at a time.” 

“Yes 


Tears and Smiles 25 

‘‘The one you need the most should be the 
first/' 

“Yes — and which should be that; thafs what 
I would like to know," still picking his teeth. 

“There is a book, written some twenty-five 
hundred years ago. I don't know whether they 
sell translations of it or not. The last original 
I saw was in the library of the late Emperor 
Ferdinand V., who had adopted it for his court. 
The original is in the Hebrew language, ‘Derech 
Aeretz’ is the title." 

“And where could I get it." 

“One translation I saw was distributed by a 
patent medicine concern recently. It was not 
complete, but it contained about ten pages of good 
extracts. It is customary in such business to 
advertise, and as an inducement to get people to 
keep their folders, they insert a few pages of 
good literature." 

“I’d like to buy that book — Derech Aeretz — ," 
still picking, “if you think it would help me. Of 
course I could not read the original." 

“You should try to get a translation by all 
means. You need it." 

“What does Derech Aeretz mean," asked Gold^ 
stein, as the gentile was leaving the dining room. 

“Manners." 


IV. 

These was a church across the street, and the 
gentile sang in the choir one Sunday. The whole 
boarding house had gone over to hear him. 
“How does that gentile come to know so much 


26 


Tears and Smiles 


about Jews?’’ asked Mannheimer. ‘T wonder if 
he is not a spy for the Czar.” 

'T’d ask him if I were you,” suggested Lebo- 
witz. 

“You ask him, Raphael,” asked Mannheimer, 
“you are better acquainted with him.” 

“Excuse me.” 

Mr. Lazarre, the new boarder, said he was a 
Frenchman. The gentile, who just entered, 
heard it and spoke French to him. The hotel 
clerk became embarrassed and pleaded justifica- 
tion and avoidance, saying that he had been ten 
years in America, was only twenty years old 
when he left France, and forgot every word he 
had known, although ten years ago he did not 
know a word of anything except French. 

“I am sorry for you, you need treatment,” 
said the gentile. 

“You mean French lessons?” smiled Lazarre. 

“No, I mean medical attention, sir. You are 
diseased. Your condition is abnormal. Yours is 
the only case of the kind. You are a prodigy.” 

“I am sorry,’^ smirked Lazarre, wiping the 
cold perspiration off his brow. 

“You understand, Mr. Lazarre,” explained 
Hermann, “this gentleman has a scientific way of 
calling one a liar.” 

“He learned it in the book of Derech Aeretz,” 
added Dr. Blumenstock, merrily. 

“Mr. Gentile likes to call a spade a spade,” 
corrected the widow. 

“Oh, I have such a headache,” complained Mrs. 
McKenna. 

“Sorry. I hope we did not cause it,” said the 


Tears and Smiles 


27 

gentile sympathetically, ‘‘but it cannot be very 
serious, you seem to eat heartily.’’ 

“Sure an’ I’ve had it for thirty years. It’ll 
be the death of me.” 

“Have you seen a physician ?” 

“I have, every wake or so, for twinty years.” 

“Well, what does he say?” 

“ ’Tis the climate. He gives me medicine and 
presents the bill iv’ry munth. That’s all he does 
for me.” 

“Gives you medicine?” 

“Yes, sor.” 

“Will that change the climate for you?” 

Dr. Blumenstock laughed. 

“No,” said Mrs. McKenna, “but it is supposed 
to cure my throuble.” 

“Does the doctor know that the climate does 
not agree with you?” 

“Sure an’ he does.” 

“Did he not advise you to go to some other 
climate ?” 

“No.” 

“He just stuffs you with medicine?” 

“Yis, sor.” 

“The scoundrel ought to be in the penitentiary.” 

Dr. Blumenstock winked understandingly. 

“What do you mane, sir,” wanted to know Mrs. 
McKenna. 

“You see,” explained the doctor, “the gentleman 
means that your physician ought to try to elim- 
inate the cause of your sickness, and when the 
cause would be removed, the disease would dis- 
appear as of course.” 


28 


Tears and Smiles 


‘‘And you mane that if the climate is the cause 
— how can the climate be iliminated 

*‘Vou can,” argued the doctor. 

“You want me to be iliminated?” 

“No, but you can move to another climate.” 

“I see,” sighed the good soul. 

“A person who persists in living in a climate 
that does not agree with him,” opined Lawyer 
Finkelstein, “is like one who insists on staying 
at a house where he is not welcome. If he gets 
a beating it serves him right. Such is your case, 
if I understand it — is that right, doctor?” 

“That is it,” expressed the agonized physician, 
from amid a mouthful of hot potatoes. 

“I wish I knew where I lost a dime the other 
day,” interjected the landlady busily. “I lost a 
dime.” 

“I see in the papers that Goldberger, the pawn- 
broker, was again arrested for buying stolen 
goods,” said Mr. Freedman. 

“Why is it,” queried Miss Barnette, “that 
people should get into trouble like that?” 

“Money, money, cursed money, is the cause,” 
replied Cohen. 

“Why is it that the — that they are traders? 
Why don’t they engage in the industries?” sug- 
gested Gazelle. 

“You see,” explained the gentile, “the classes 
that feel safe are engaged in all the occupations 
in which other people engage.” 

“What do you mean by feeling safe?” 

“You see, for centuries the Jew was subject to 
edicts ordering him out of the country, even to 
leave forthwith. He was not allowed to own real 


Tears and Smiles 


29 


property. He was not allowed to pursue a trade. 
He had no country of his own. All the world was 
owned by some people. It was the policy of 
Rome to disorganize Israel, and dictated just 
what should be done to the Tews everywhere. The 
scatter:.. so what could 

he do? He i,. sold it at a 

profit; bought somccw again a. ^ sold that. 
Sometimes he would be given rights by govern- 
ments, then the people would resent it and annoy 
him, beat him, rob him, kill him. 

'‘When a Jew received short notice to quit the 
realm, he took with him all he could carry. An- 
ticipating always the probability of persecution, 
he so managed as not to have a much greater bulk 
than he could load on his team or on his back and 
on the backs of his family. Money was the 
easiest to carry. Money was his best friend and 
protector. Money often saved him from malic- 
ious prosecution. It saved many a life. So he 
developed a protective tendency to hold on to 
money.’’ 

“But that ain’t necessary in this country,” sug- 
gested Miss Barnette. 

“Not only in this country, but everywhere 
where the Jews were let alone for a few genera- 
tions, they have so assimilated with the country 
that it would be hard to separate them. It is 
only the class that was driven from Roumania 
to Russia, from Russia to Poland, from Poland 
to Germany, and then by associated charities 
shipped to America, that has the traditional 
tendency of distrust, fear, greed for protection, 




Tears and Smiles 


money, wealth. But the others are not much 
different from other people. 

“They had had experiences to render them sus- 
picious. They have been granted rights. They 
have built homes and invested in many enter- 
prises — only to have to abandon them or be im- 
prisoned and starved or killed 

“My grandfather, a man of 79,” put in Bever, 
somberly, “was killed with an axe. We lived in 
Kishineff. I saw it with my own eyes. I was 
six years old. I can see the axe land sideways 
on the back of his gray head and the blood drivel 
upon his assailant, who then thrust the blade into 
the back of his neck, as he lay on the ground. 
My mother fled for her life. My father was 
killed in the street. My brother and I were 
saved by gentile neighbors by hiding us, and at 
dusk we fled for our lives. I had two little 
sisters. We were nine children. Then I did not 
see my mother for five years, when I met her 
accidentally at the Jewish Charity office in 
Tolcsva, Hungary. Then we went to Roumania 
to live. Two of my brothers are still missing; 
we don’t know whether they roam in the world 
looking for us, or whether they were killed by 
Russians. My folks had been living in Kishineff 
for more than a hundred years — and we lost 
everything. We had a big store; and then we 
were made beggars.” 

''There is a speaking monument of Jewish 
history for you,” said the gentile. 

“My God,” cried Mrs. McKenna, drying her 
eyes with the napkin, “don’t say no more.” 

*Tt is horrible,” sighed Mrs. Bauck. 


Teaiis ANt) Smiled 


‘^Horrible?” sighed Bever with suppressed 
emotion, ‘‘I have seen things done to Jewish girls 
in the open street by soldiers that are not fit to 
tell ” 

‘‘Please say no more,” pleaded Miss Barnette. 

“Hereafter I will always be your friend,” said 
the pawn-broker. 

“I always did say,” said the landlady, “that 
you have more sense than any of them. You 
know I am your friend.” 

“No orthodox friends for mine,” thundered 
Mrs. Lowenheim, the widow, as she left the 
table, “I was born in this country.” 

“I hate these kikes,” whispered Bauck to 
Miss Barnette, “I wish you would have nothing 
to do with them. I am a German Jew, and I 
have no time for kike stories. 

“Kike” is a nickname given by the lower class 
Jews of one country to the corresponding class 
of another country. 

Bauck was a floorwalker, and Miss Barnette 
worked under him. 

“What is that you are talking at low breath 
about kikes?” asked Cohen, “if you mean me, I 
will tell you that I am as good as you are; and 
if you say it again ” 

Bauck left the table. 

“Why is it,” asked Mr. Gazelle, “That the 
Jews never work or handle money on Saturdays, 
and never eat pork or marry gentiles in the old 
country, whilst when they come here they do? I 
think they are so disliked there because they are 
SO different and insist on discriminating. If they 


32 


Tears and Smiles 


were willing to do the things there that they do 
here, there would not be so much trouble/' 

“There is no comparison between the two 
countries," argued Lawyer Finkelstein. “This is 
a constitutional republic, and Russia is an un- 
limited monarchy. The local constitution itself 
speaks for all the people and creeds alike. That 
gracious provision eliminates rebellious blood, 
and moulds all into one nation. Publicly no dis- 
criminations is shown here. The country is large 
and resourceful. If all the Jews of the world 
were to come here, their problem would be 
solved. The country wants an increase in popu- 
lation, and there are vast uninhabited regions in 
the West, where all those immigrants could find 
homes and decent employment, and still not be 
in the way." 

“The fact alone that they are different," said 
the gentile, “would not cause the trouble, but the 
lower classes — ^you know, the Jews have their 
peasants — cause it. For instance, when such a 
Jew passes a priest of the avowed enemy's creed 
he expectorates; he refers to him as a barehead; 
he calls the enemy’s cemetery a carcass lot; he 
calls the enemy's child a vermin; he calls the 
enemy an uncircumcised " 

“What do you mean by the lower classes, or 
peasant Jews?" asked Hermann. 

“The class that is rebellious, unreasonable, un- 
educated, bigoted, whether rich or hungry, is 
low." 

One evening Mrs. Lowenheim sat on the porch 
with her son on her lap. 

“Harry, my darling, my angel, my sweet* 


Tears and Smiles 


33 

heart, you love your mamma, don’t you. Kiss 
your mamma sweet. That’s right. Do it again. 
That is the way, my honey-bunchy Harry dear. 
You angel boy. You sweetheart. Ugh — ,” and 
she pressed and hugged and kissed the indif- 
ferent boy as he sat on her lap, seeming to crush 
her, his head reaching about a foot higher than 
hers. 

“Love your mamma, sweetness. Hug tight. 
Tighter. That’s the way, my darling boy, Harry; 
that is the way. 

This performance had continued for some 
time, much to the chagrin of some of the 
audience. 

Mr. Bever winked at the gentile, who smiled 
in answer, understanding^. 

The telephone rang, and the widow went to 
answer it, and the much relieved Harry ran into 
the street to play with the other boys, leaving 
that corner of the porch to the two young men. 

“I wonder,” said Bever, “if that little woman 
could milk cows.” 

Gentry did not understand the connection. 

“I wonder if she could make cheese or churn 
butter.” 

The other party was still silent. 

“My mother never used to kiss me.” 

It seemed rather pathetic. 

“She never called me darling, she never 
begged me to hug her, she never called me sweet- 
heart. No, she never made any fuss over me. 
But 

He became choked with emotion. He reached 
for his handkerchief to dry his tears. 


34 


Tears and Smiles 


«But r he sobbed. 

The gentile listened with bated breath. 

“But,” he reiterated, when he regained his 
speech, “she was left with a lot of children, chased 
all over Europe trying to gather us, and when 
we moved to Roumania she milked the neighbors’ 
cows and made butter and cheese for them, and 
baked and cooked and scrubbed and washed, to 
earn her orphans a living. This woman could 
not and would not do that. Soft talk is cheap, 
like other talk. All the ‘darling’ and ‘sweet- 
heart’ talk will not take the place of what my 
mother did for us when we lost our property, 
our home and our father.” 


V. 

The gentile had lived a week in the Nashville 
house, when a telegram came, calling him to 
other parts. After he settled with the landlady, 
at the adieu, he reached for his fountain pen, 
took a page from his loose leaf notebook, and 
wrote. 

“Madam,” said he when he was through, “keep 
this note.” 

The little woman looked at the writing, then 
raised her eyes toward him ; but he left, hasten- 
ing to the station, several of the boarders accom- 
panying him, and Miss Fannie taking a lunch to 
the train for him in a four pound candy box. 

At the terminus Miss Fanny saw a traveling 
man whom she had met at the park a few days 
since. The traveler was to leave on the same 
train, and stood beside the vehicle several cars be- 


Tears and Smiles 


3S 

hind the one of the gentile. The gentile stood 
near the track, talking with the people who ac- 
companied him, helped carry his grips and to 
check his trunks. When the signal knelled he 
lighted his car, and the perplexed Miss Fannie 
flung the box of fried chicken and boiled eggs 
and salad and jam and other delicacies at the 
man with whom she was talking. The con- 
founded traveler is guessing to this day how the 
young lady, whose name he does not remember, 
ever came to decide to meet him at the depot with 
such a fine lunch, and wonders what his wife 
would say if she ever were to find it out. 

The writing which the outgoing boarder gave 
the landlady was foreign, and in strange charac- 
ters. She was much agitated over it. No one in 
the house could make it out. Even Bever ad- 
mitted that he could not read it, although it 
looked like Hebrew. He said it was too high 
for him. 

Doctor Atkins, of the church across the street, 
referred Mrs. Eppstein to Herr Mendelsohn, the 
reformed rabbi. The rabbi could not make it 
out. She had shown the thing to many people. 
No success. 

“It’s a bluff,” said Marx. “He wants you to 
think he can write Yiddish, but he put his foot 
in it.” 

“I should say it was a bluff. Anyone could 
see that don’t mean nothin’,” said Goldman. 

“It’s a shame,” said Dr. Blumenstock, “to talk 
like that. I bet it is a riddle worth going to 
some expense to solve. Mrs. Eppstein, give it 
to me. I shall send it to an orthodox rabbi in 


Tears and Smiles 


36 

New York, or to Jerusalem if necessary. I shall 
have it translated for you at any cost.’’ 

“Thanks, but the gentile told me to keep it, 
and it shall not leave me.” 

The landlady went to see Rabbi Kaminsky, the 
orthodox. 

“This note, daughter,” said the doctor of 
divinity, “was written by a nobleman.” 
i “A nobleman!” 

I “Yes, a nobleman; a member of the oldest 
family of aristocrats, a descendant of Aaron, son 
of Amram, brother of Moses, high priest of 
Israel.” 

“Of Israel!” frowned the landlady with con- 
fusion and astonishment. 

“Yes, and I envy you for the possession of it. 
You shall never want for peace as long as you 
keep it.” 

“What do I want peace for? I ain’t got so 
much trouble.” 

“Maybe so, but life is long, and peace is never 
complete, unless everything else is in harmony.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“You have been blessed by a descendant of 
the high priest.” 

“Blessed ?” 

“Yes. This phrase is the benediction of the 
tribe of priests. The signature is cabbalistic, the 
key to it has been handed down from time to 
time to only a chosen few. The part which I 
can read goes, ‘The Lord bless thee and keep 
thee; The Lord make his face shine upon thee, 
and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his 


Tears and Smiles 


37 


countenance upon thee and give thee peace/ 
Keep it/’ 

^‘What does it all mean, mamma,” asked Miss 
Miriam, as they wended their way homeward. 

“Don’t say nothin’. I am so nervous, I don’t 
know what to do.” 

The little woman got home tired, exhausted, 
panting. She got in while the servants were 
serving dinner. 

“What did you learn, madame?” asked the 
doctor. 

“Oh my!” 

“What is it?” 

“Well, doctor, I don’t know what to say 

“Oh, come, speak.” 


“Well, the gentile- 
>} 



Well, he ” 


“Well what,” sighed the doctor, perspiring 
under the suspense, “what did you find out?” 

“I saw the orthodox rabbi.” 

“Yes.” 

“He says the gentile ,” she gasped, amid 

severe palpitations of her good heart. 

“The gentile what?” panted the physician, im- 
patiently. 

“The gentile is ” 

“The gentile — is he in trouble?” 

“The gentile — the gentile is a Jew/' 


38 


Tears and Smiles 


AN ODD FELLOW. 

Hermus was born in one of the wine growing 
towns on the Rhine. His father was a wealthy 
inn keeper and owner of large tracts of vineyard, 
most of which he acquired by inheritance. In 
later years he bottled the wines of his production 
and shipped them abroad, which brought him 
large returns and enhanced his fortune. This 
father was a miser, and his wife was much like 
himself. 

Young Hermus grew up in the inn. Ever 
since he could remember he had seen his father 
dish out intoxicants, and his mother did the same. 
He saw people come in and take one drink, saw 
them take more, and saw whole companies come 
in and drink, and saw individuals and companies 
drink till they had to be carried to their homes. 
There was gambling and music day and night in 
the Inn on the Rhine, and it was frequently 
Hermus’ duty to assist at the schank. When he 
was eight years old his father often boasted of 
him as a fine bartender. 

Hermus went to school with the other children. 
The parents of some of the children were well- 
to-do, some less wealthy, and some were very 
poor. 

The inn-keeper was the most prosperous man in 


Tears and Smiles 


39 


town. Nevertheless, Hermus never enjoyed the 
advantages that the poorest of the other children 
did. He got one suit of clothes a year and that 
was made of Canton flannel, and he had never 
owned an overcoat. When he used to eat what 
his mother thought too much, he would be 
mocked, abused, beaten. His father used to 
punish him unmercifully. The other children 
used to torment him by making remarks about 
the conspicuous patches he had in his flannellet 
suit — patches that would not match. The child 
would be tired in the morning and slothful at 
night ; this occasioned frequent punishment from 
his parents. He was skilful at the schank, how- 
ever, and they made him work nights till he fell 
asleep behind the bar, when they would spank 
him and put him to bed. 

Other children enjoyed the luxuries of play- 
things, which Hermus never did, and had no time 
to think about. His sole ambition was to reach 
the age when they could not punish him so much. 
At home his father or his mother would beat him 
because, they claimed, he did not work enough, 
and at school the teacher would, because he was 
sluggish and stupid. He very often fell asleep 
at school, and was in the dunce’s chair a great 
deal. 

Hermus was never given a pfenning. If he 
wanted pennies, there was a bowling alley in the 
yard, and when there was nothing else for him 
to do he was allowed to set pins. The bowlers 
played for money, and the winner would give 
him a pfenning at the end of the game from the 
profits. One day he did not set his pins fast 


40 


Tears and Smiles 


enough and a drunker! player threw a large ball 
at him, striking him on the head, and causing the 
boy to faint. He was picked up senseless. When 
his father looked into the reason of the outrage 
he considered it a sufficient explanation that the 
son was punished because he was not swift 
enough. The play continued, and the inebriate 
who threw the ball was not even reprimanded. 
He was a good customer. 

Once a man had bragged at the inn that he 
could emit smoke through his eyes. He was just 
lighting a cigar. The crowd of customers 
listened to him with awe, they never heard of 
such a thing. They were anxious to see an exhi- 
bition of his skill. The wizard said that it would 
be necessary, while he would hold the cigar in 
his mouth, that someone go behind him and 
press his arms tight around his waist. One of 
the men volunteered, but the wizard insisted that 
it must be a boy. Hermus was called by his 
mother. The boy pressed his arms around the 
man tightly, as directed, his hands meeting in 
front. The wizard took both little hands as they 
met in front of him in his left, and gripped them 
tightly as if to hold them in position; then he 
began to smoke, and kept on puffing until he pro- 
duced a good fire on the cigar, when he pressed 
the fiery end against the back of the boy’s hand. 
The child struggled and tried to tear his hand 
away, but the strong man held it and still 
pressed the fire. Then Hermus screamed and 
fell in a faint. It was a joke. The wizard did 
not dare play his trick on a man. He had wanted 
a boy. When Hermus came to he was blamed 


Tears and Smiles 


41 


for simulating swooning and making a spectacle 
of himself and got whipped. This happened 
thirty years ago, but the scar of the wound pro- 
duced by the joke of the wizard and his cigar 
can still be seen on Hermus’ right hand. 

At the age of ten the school principal told his 
father that Hermus was an idiot, and would 
never become anything, and that he was not 
worth the expense and trouble of teaching. So 
the boy was taken from school. His father gave 
him to a furniture and dry goods merchant in a 
small town in Saxony as an apprentice, and told 
the merchant that he was a good boy, but needed 
a whipping occasionally, and that whipped he 
would work better; and the master took advan- 
tage of the privilege. His father communicated 
all the nicknames the child had at home, and 
they were all practiced on him. Nevertheless, 
Hermus was glad he was away from home. He 
was no more in fear of being killed in brawls, 
he did not have to listen to the insensate stories 
of drunken customers and to join in the chorus 
of laughter at every bit of stupidity in order to 
make the inebriate believe that he was very witty 
and that his yarns were appreciated. He could 
now go to his bed in the warehouse at nine 
o’clock and sleep till six and get up refreshed 
and strong. 

In his new environment Hermus was a bright 
boy. He liked his duties and he did not get 
punished as much as he used to at home; but 
when he was punished it hurt him the more, be- 
caues he never knew why, and wondered if, un- 
like the other boys, it was his fate to be beaten 


43 


Tears and Smiles 


and kicked for nothing that he knew of, indefin- 
itely. His father had told the merchant that it 
was necessary for the child’s education that he 
get occasional beatings, and that unless they 
would be given the boy he would take him back 
home. That was the way this father understood 
it to be right to bring up a child, at least this 
one. 


II. 

Hermus had now served a year and was 
eleven years old. The master had been given to 
understand that he was thirteen when he was 
ten. Hermus now could roll and unroll a piece 
of cloth as large as himself with the skill of an 
expert; and he could move furniture from de- 
partment to department with an ease and speed 
wonderful to behold. He could persuade a cus- 
tomer and tell all the virtues of a piece of goods 
in the same routine manner as his master, and 
was a valuable adjunct to the business. 

But the boy became homesick. He longed to 
be with his mother, the mother that used to beat 
him and provoke his father to beating him. He 
was anxious to see his father, who used to waken 
him at all hours of the night and punish him for 
some wrong his mother had reported on him ; and 
if the child cried too loudly he would take a rope, 
tie his hands and feet and throw him under a bed 
and keep him there till he would stop making a 
noise. 

Hermus was considered a bad child, not from 


Tears and Smiles 


43 


what anyone knew of him, but from his reputa- 
tion that his parents had frequent occasions to 
punish him; and who would think that such a 
father would unjustly punish his own child — or a 
mother — even if they were dealers in spirits! 

Hermus went home. He had on the same 
Canton flannel suit in which he had left, which 
was now shrunken and time- and weatherbeaten. 
The old folk were glad to see him. He was 
bright and cheerful, full of life and versatility. 
He had changed. 

Soon he was back in the old rut of sleepless 
nights, punishment, work behind the schank, re- 
monstrances for eating too much bread, and all 
the miseries of a year ago. He would set pins 
and save his pfennings. A pfenning is one- 
fourth of one cent. When he had one hundred 
pfennings (one mark) his mother took them 
from him, saying that she would save them and 
would return them whenever the child would 
wish to buy something useful. In a few months the 
boy saved up four hundred and fifty-eight pfen- 
nings (about $1.15). He asked his mother for 
his savings, he wanted to buy a pair of boots. 
She refused to give him his savings. The child 
reminded her that she had promised to return 
the money whenever he would ask for it ; but she 
said she had changed her mind, because the 
board and education and clothing she had given 
Hermus all his life were worth four hundred and 
fifty-eight pfennings and more, and that if he 
would speak any more about it she would beat 
him up and make father do the same. He spoke 
no more about it, and got both beatings, too. 


44 


Tears and Smiles 


One day Hermus’ father was sick in bed. He 
had chills, nausea, convulsions, a general feeling 
of uneasines and discomfort, pains in the limbs, 
high fever and a peculiar inflammation of the 
skin of his neck and face. He never had been 
sick before to Hermus’ knowledge. He had 
heard of fathers getting sick, dying and leaving 
orphans, and the orphans had no fathers, and 
that some of the orphans got other fathers, and 
that the step-fathers were never as good to the 
children as their own. Now his own father was 
sick, and the next stage to sickness is death! 
Suppose father should die and he become an or- 
phan ; or worse yet, get a step-father who would 
not be as good as this one! As he was thus 
meditating, gazing at the window and drawing 
images with his finger on the sweating pane, he 
heard his father groan. Horrors! He thought 
the end had come. He buried his face with his 
arm, drying his tears with his flannelet sleeve. 
His mother espied him as he tried to suppress 
the emotions provoked by his terrible thoughts. 
Her presence was quickly signalled by a sudden 
jerk at Hermus’ ear, and the remark: ‘'Crying, 
eh? Think that will keep him from beating you 
when he gets better? I’ll have him skin you; 
just wait till he gets his erysipelas cured!” 

When Hermus was quite a small boy he had 
a little sister. The sister was always sick. 
Everyone inquired about her, and Hermus hard- 
ly knew her; he could not have picked her out 
from among other children. He never saw her 
but once. He had looked at her when she was 
six months old and was whipped for it; so hq 


Tears and Smiles 


45 


decided that a little sister in the family was not 
a thing for him to look at. He had heard that 
God helped if people prayed. There was a 
prayer book in the house. He was anxious that 
his little sister get well. He saw other boys play 
with their little sisters, but their parents did not 
have inns and vineyards. Still Hermus had long 
since decided that everything was just as it 
should be, otherwise it would not be so. He saw 
that every possible means was employed to get 
the little sister cured. She was cross-eyed, she 
had the measles, whooping cough, all sorts of 
fevers, the current maladies of the seasons, and 
the child had been treated for various diseases 
at the same time, the different diseases compli- 
cated and aggravated the little girl’s condition. 
The doctor would come twice a day to see little 
Mary, and Hermus would go to the drug store to 
get medicine for her. How happy he was that 
he could contribute that much service to the re- 
lief of the little sister he was not allowed to see! 
When no one was near he would open the prayer 
book and begin to read. That was the way he 
best understood to pray. He read the book six 
times over, stopping when interrupted or endan- 
gered of discovery, and on the next opportunity 
starting to read where he had last left off. Mary 
was still sick. He wondered if he did not leave 
something undone. Yes, he had heard that 
people should kneel when they prayed, and the 
Almighty would then help the sooner. So one 
day when no one was near and the nurse was 
asleep he laid the breviary on little Mary’s bed 
and kneeled down beside it, and continued to 


Tears and Smiles 


46 

read where he last left off. She was three years 
old, he was seven. When he was through he 
felt so contented, feeling that he did his best, all 
that could be done to make good prayer, as he 
had been on his knees for almost an hour with- 
out interruption. 

Little Mary’s cross eye had been fixed by the 
doctor, and the other ailments have gradually 
subsided. She got up and walked. The child 
recovered sooner than the doctor had expected, 
having said that there were so many complica- 
tions that it would be a miracle if the child were 
saved. But many doctors say that, sometimes 
insincerely, in order that, when such patients do 
recover, it gives them the prestige of having 
saved hopeless cases. 


III. 

Hermus had a little brother, Joe. He loved 
his little brother very much; it was his pleasure 
to bathe and help dress him sometimes. Little 
Joe had come when his big brother was nine 
years old. 

When Joe was a little over two years old he 
became sick. He had headaches and fevers, his 
little tongue was coated, and his father used to 
scrape it with a silver spoon, and the child suf- 
fered untold agony, which developed into acute 
meningitis. Joe ceased his sweet prattlings, and 
all the music furnished by the town band to the 
prominent and other lushers could not cheer 
Hermus. While the child was ill Hermus was 


Tears and Smiles 


47 


not allowed to see him, whilst the child, when 
he did say a word, called for Hermus, who was 
not allowed to go near him, because, the doctor 
said, the child needed absolute quiet. 

Hermus prayed for his little brother as he did 
years ago for his sister. The local doctor gave 
up all hopes, and another physician was sum- 
moned from Vienna. The Vienna man looked 
sad and wise, and would never speak to anyone 
but the local doctor, and that at low breath. The 
child had not spoken in several days. One day 
the room where the child lay sick was deserted 
for a little while, the mother went to the kitchen 
or somewhere to get milk for him. Hermus 
seized the opportunity and ran in to see the little 
brother. He bent over the bed to touch the 
baby’s feverd cheek with his lips. Little Joe 
turned his head and stretched his little lips to- 
ward the big brother, as the latter, with tearful 
face, gazed at him, contemplating that it might 
be for the last time. He kissed the child’s lips, 
and the baby muttered faintly, “Hermus !” 

Hermus knelt down at the bedside of the 
child and wept, and then he began to pray as he 
never did before, without the book this time, and 
when he heard the rustling of his mother’s skirt, 
swishing louder and louder as she approached, 
he hurried out through the front door to escape 
a beating or a cursing. 

The child died early next morning, and for 
many months, for years after the child had been 
laid to rest, and when everyone else had long 
since forgotten it, Hermus was not known to 
smile. He was mourning for his beloved little 


48 


Tears and Smiles 


brother, the only member of the family who had 
never wronged him. It was pitiful to watch 
Hermus crying as if his heart would part from 
his body, his plaint was so pathetic that when 
he started everyone cried with him, stopping 
when he stopped. On the death of the child the 
father became furious, and declared that God 
had wronged him, that He was a coward, that 
He ought to act like a man and fight it out face 
to face if He had anything against one. He 
likened Him to a vulgar woodman who for some 
minor object would fell the finest sapling and 
use it as a bow or other less important stick to 
fasten his timber to the wagon, and wantonly 
disregard the fact that he is taking a life. He 
protested that the child was too young to have 
sinned so as to deserve death; and he challenged 
God to come and have a fight with him, threaten- 
ing to tear His hair and beard and to demolish 
Him from the universe. 

He never had used such language before. He 
had used to give Hermus the most cruel punish- 
ments with the greatest of nonchalance, without 
moving a muscle toward showing temper or 
even displeasure, and here he was challenging 
the Maker for a fight ! 

Who knows but what he was not worthy of 
little Joe! Who knows but Joe was saved from 
Hermus' fate! Who knows but Joe was taken 
from the world as a punishment to a miser who 
could not appreciate such a blessing as a child ! 
Ah, who knows! 

He was a highly respected man in the com- 
munity for honesty. He never drank, even with 


Tears and Smiles 


49 


his best customers ; he was a man of fair educa- 
tion, and this was the first time that Hermus ever 
observed him showing real temper or using a 
profane word. Inwardly the boy thought that if 
his father were to raise such a protest for his 
death he would wish to die. It gave him a new 
idea, the notion came to him that probably for all 
his paternal cruelty there seemed to be some 
latent something in him that was a father. But 
if that was so, why was his dramshop so much 
dearer to his heart than his child? Why did not 
he act as another boy’s father would have acted 
if such a trick had been played on him with that 
cigar ; or why did he not beat up or prosecute the 
man that fired the bowling ball at his son ? Why 
did he not dress his young son as other fathers 
of means did? And why did he punish a child 
who was so much smaller than himself, and so 
unable to resist him or defend himself against 
him, so severely? And why did not he keep his 
young children away from the influences of the 
inn? 

Thus Hermus meditated. He was a boy of 
tender years, but he had suffered enough to de- 
velop an ability to contemplate his own wants. 

The baby was buried as of course. Hermus’ 
lot was hard, as usually, only worse because his 
mother would curse him much, and among other 
things, she would curse her fate that the little 
boy died instead of Hermus, and she would not 
hesitate lamenting it in loud words when Hermus 
was present. She wanted him to hear it. 

One day Hermus went to the pantry and 
helped himself to bread. The rule was that he 


50 


Tears and Smiles 


should ask; but when he did ask, although he 
usually got the slice of bread he also got a 
scolding, for eating too much, which he wanted 
to avoid as he helped himself ; and when he did 
this his little sister, Mary, who was now eight 
years old, went and told on him, just for the fun 
of seeing him get the scolding. He remonstrated 
with her kindly, as a bigger brother would, and 
she answered: “I do not like you at all. Little 
Joe died and you did not. You should have died 
instead.’' She had learned the speech from her 
mother, verbatim. 

Hermus said nothing. He just thought of the 
time when he used to pray for her, and nodded. 
He was sullen anyway, because now his little 
brother was gone, and there was nothing to 
cheer him. He observed a great deal and said 
little. When he did say anything he usually did 
that wrong, as he had been blamed so much for 
doing things wrong, and for not knowing any- 
thing, that whatever he had to do he tried to 
change and do and say differently than he at first 
intended, because that great deal of blame had 
got him actually to believe that he was all 
wrong, so that, no matter how right he was, he 
spoiled it by the changing. He felt a great deal, 
and very deeply, but was a boy of few words, 
especially in view of the fearful summary punish- 
ments. 

He had another brother, Jesse. Jesse was two 
years his junior, his mother’s favorite, and knew 
it. He had enjoyed all the pleasures of the other 
children, as he was the youngest son — which 
Hermus never did. He used to tell stories about 


Tears and Smiles 


SI 

his bigger brother to his parents, which some- 
times were exaggerated and sometimes not true 
at all, and Hermus used to get punished on the 
strength of what Jesse had said about him, with- 
out the benefit of hearing or explanation. But 
Jesse reached the limit when he was five years 
old and Hermus seven. Hermus was tired; he 
had been helping in the inn till he could work 
no longer, so he went to bed and fell asleep. As 
he lay there asleep, little Jesse crawled out of 
his bed, went to him and pinched him hard. It 
hurt him much ; when he awoke he saw his little 
brother run out of the room, after pinching him 
where he had been vaccinated a few days ago, 
causing him excruciating pain. Soon after he 
fell asleep again he was aroused by his mother’s 
pulling his ear and cursing him, venting on him 
all the maledictions common to the witches of 
the Orient. The smaller brother, after pinching 
him, had complained to the mother, amid 
screams, that Hermus had pinched him. Hermus 
did not speak to his younger brother for a long 
time thereafter, which fact occasioned him many 
severe punishments. 

Such was the family from which Hermus 
came, and he had nothing to do with the selection 
of it! He never heard a tender word addressed 
to him, and if such a thing ever did happen, it 
must have been when he was so small that his 
memory did not run that far. 

When Hermus was thirteen he heard his father 
grumble to his mother, and it was intended that 
he should hear it, that Hermus was growing to 
be a big boy, and that in addition to feeding him^ 


Tears and Smiles 


52 

which was no investment, there was a danger of 
being taxed for having him in the house. The 
hint was pointed enough. A few days there- 
after the father, in the same manner, said that 
since Hermus was at home the luck of the liquor 
business was declining, and the daily gross re- 
ceipts were smaller than they used to be while 
he had been away, and he was sure the boy was 
the hoodoo — the cause — of the fact. 

The father was anxious enough that the boy, 
if anyhing, should be other than a liquor man. 
He knew that something was wrong with the 
child. The boy had not been known to smile 
once in many moons. He could not see that the 
fault was in the envii mment. 

There was not much melody or sweetness in 
the inn-keeper’s tone, nor did he try to exercise 
any tact about treating the boy’s feelings gently. 
He had been told that occasionally children would 
leave home, go far away, and at unexpected 
times surprise their parents as successes. He 
might have sent Hermus to some school or to 
some infirmary if he had thought the boy was 
ill ; but the school principal had told him that the 
child would not be a success to teach, besides, the 
inn-keeper was stingy, so he just threw out his 
hints in that uncouth way of his, at home. 
Neighbors never knew of the troubles with the 
family as Hermus suffered them. 


IV. 


At the age of thirteen one day Hermus gath- 
ered his nerves as one does who, on a winter’s 


Tears and Smiles 


53 


morning resolves to take an ice bath, and 
announced that he would leave forever and 
that they would never hear about him if 
he could help it, and immediately he proceeded 
to pack up his armful of clothes and left. When 
he started to pack his mother cried, his father 
did not think he meant it, and Hermus, in the 
sternness of his resolve, did not consider his 
mother’s tears as anything else than a woman’s 
crying just because she did not know just what 
would be the most proper thing to do. 

It may have been so, and it may be that the 
crisis had wrought a change upon her; but Her- 
mus resolved to go, and hoped to appear strong 
long enough to get out without a beating. 

He left home without a penny, and went wither 
his eyes had led him ; he was not particular about 
the points of the compass. He worked his way 
as every other wanderer. He looked for various 
occupations, and he found work from time to 
time which enabled him to earn small amounts to 
pay his way. He was happy at whatever he 
worked because he was not beaten. He had de- 
veloped an unnatural fear of everybody and 
every thing. Even in later years, occasionally, 
he would turn his head suddenly, involuntarily, 
as if to watch for and ward off an imaginary 
blow. This nervousness developed from the fact 
that he had often been unexpectedly surprised, 
even wakened from sleep, by a beating, and he 
used to get them so regularly — or rather irregu- 
larly and often. 

When he was seven or eight years old he would 
show symptoms of a functional disorder of the 


Tears and Smiles 


54 

nervous system, probably brought about by the 
ill-treatment he had sustained at the hands of 
his parents. The child seemingly grirnaced or 
jerked the arm, sometimes the hand, as if in im- 
itation ; the motions would be followed by irregu- 
lar jactitations of the muscles of the face and 
the shoulder, and sometimes by rhythmic move- 
ments of the arms and hands. The child would 
show more of these symptoms after punishment 
than at other times, and the parents forbade him 
to exercise these movements. Little Jesse was 
told to watch him and report if he saw him do 
them, and little Mary had the same commission. 
He did not know when he was doing them, and 
they told on him, and the parents would beat him 
for going through the motions. These actions 
were the regular symptoms of a nervous disease 
called chorea, popularly known as St. Vitus’ 
dance, and for years they would punish him for 
making grimaces he was not aware of, and 
which supposed wrong he did not know when he 
was committing. After punishment he would 
do these things to a greater extent than before. 
Then they would punish him again. Then, his 
nerves being more agitated, he did them the 
more; and so, thinking that he was acting in 
spite, they simply hated him. 

After he left home the reaction handled him 
rather roughly, but he had to work for a living 
and for a future, and what infirmities he had he 
felt he just had to live down. He started out in 
the world with the resolution to keep out of the 
influences of liquor, and to go where they would 
not punish him as they used to. He went from 


Tears and Smiles 55 

city to city, walking. He worked at various oc^ 
cupations, in an art studio, in a dry goods store, 
in a drug store, in a doctor’s office, in a picture 
frame factory, in a laundry, in a wholesale 
grocery, in a plow factory, in a bank, and in 
many other establishments, from time to time, 
taking advantage of every opportunity he had of 
reading the books he saw around him. He went 
through Italy, France, Hungary, Austria, Tur- 
key, Belgium and Spain, managing to pick up 
some learning in his various employments, spend- 
ing all of his own time with books, such as he 
would find around him, or could borrow or buy. 
He had no one to advise him what to read, so 
he read omnivorously. Whatever he read he 
found interesting, because in all the books he 
found there were things he never heard of 
before. 

He read because he had nothing else to do. He 
read because he wanted an education; and he 
read because he wanted to improve himself in the 
languages of the countries, and, being a stranger, 
and having no friends, he appreciated the good 
companionship of books. He found self instruc- 
tors in book stores; from these he learned the 
grammar of the local tongue, and the language 
he picked up in his daily intercourse with his 
employers and the people around him, and from 
the books and newpsapers which he was reading ; 
and whatever words he could not understand, he 
looked up in the dictionary. He did not make 
friends, as everyone about him was in his native 
land, had his own relations near, and he was only 
a foreigner, with a pronounced accent. He was 


56 Tears and Smiles 

content, however, and his chief aim now was 
never to be without some occupation, no matter 
how small the income. 

At the age of seventeen Hermus landed in 
New York. Here he found a job in a public 
library on Second Avenue, where his chief duties 
were to keep the card system in order, and to 
put paper covers on all the new books that came 
in, and to change the soiled paper covers for 
new. A new world had opened up to him, he 
became acquainted with books he had never heard 
of before, and the many reference books im- 
pressed him forcibly. This tremendous houseful 
of lore reminded him of his ignorance, and made 
him the more hungry for learning. There were 
thousands of books before him, and he was not 
allowed to read. There was an old maid in 
charge of the institution. When he was assigned 
to work under her, she told him that a certain 
number of books had to be covered by him each 
day. At first it was hard for him to do all that 
in a day, but as he became accustomed to the 
work he covered the number of books allotted for 
a day in two hours, and the card system was easy 
to keep and it did not take much time. He 
worked eagerly to increase his speed in book 
covering, in order to have opportunity to read. 
But when the lady found later that he had a 
great deal of leisure, she gradually doubled, and 
later trebled, his allotment, until, at last, she 
gave him to understand that it was against the 
rules for him to read, but that he must put in 
all his time covering books. Still, he kept his 
job and did his reading at home, in his furnished 


57 


Tears and Smiles 

room — furnished with a bed and a chair, and a 
kerosene lamp, which sat on the window sill, 
until he improved his English and found better 
employment, still continuing his studies. 

Jesse, his younger brother, followed him to 
America — at least he came to New York, and 
found his brother’s name in the directory— and 
he looked him up. Hermus was not especially 
anxious to see him, still he helped him financially. 
The sight of him brought back the miseries of 
the past, which he was longing to forget, and in 
order to forget which he tried hard to be busy 
every wake moment of his life — to save him from 
thinking of Jesse and that home! He well re- 
membered the stories told by this brother, which 
culminated in Hermus’ summary punishments. 
He remembered him sitting opposite him in the 
schank in order to find a nervous movement 
made by his sick brother, and to report on him 
that he had again practiced the grimace, or the 
rhythmic motions of the hands. He remem- 
bered that many a time he did not exercise them 
at all, but that the boy had said that he did, justj 
to see him punished. The very knowledge that; 
his little brother was sitting there or following 
him for the purpose of detecting one of those 
nervous twitchings made him nervous, and was 
a sufficient cause to excite him into a relapse. ! 

Jesse well knew that his brother did not wish 
to see him, and that it enervated Hermus to evenj 
be reminded of him. That was just what he' 
wanted. He wanted to bring Hermus down, if 
possible, to his own level, both materially as well 
as morally, as well, as also, in the esteem of his 


58 Tears and Smiles 

parents abroad, who by now had heard that Her- 
mus was doing well in America, and, indeed they 
used to lament the idea that they had not under- 
stood him or treated him right while he was with 
them. Jesse would cause anonymous letters to 
be written to his parents about Hermus, deroga- 
tory to his brother’s character. Then he would 
find out who Hermus’ acquaintances and well 
wishers were. Jesse would call on them, shabby 
and dirty as he was, and introduce himself and 
tell them that he heard they were friends of his 
brother’s and that he had made fortunes in the 
West and that he was looking for his brother 
with a view of helping him financially. It was 
a queer manner, and no one that sincerely intends 
to do such a thing would do it just that way. But 
this was one of the many devices he would con- 
coct for the purpose of luring his brother into 
his company. The brother knew him well. He 
would be informed of the younger brother’s 
inquiries of him. He knew ! And it would gnaw 
at his heart, and he would keep on suffering and 
weeping when no eye saw. He did not wish to 
see him or to be pestered by his calls. 

Jesse would go to his brother’s office during 
the lunch hours, when he was sure not to find 
him in, and talk to the office boy there, showing 
off with a large roll, the outside of which was a 
real dollar bill, as evidence that he had money, 
and tell the boy that he was looking for his 
brother with a view of giving him money. When 
he did meet Hermus he asked him for money. 

Such and similar were the contemptible means 
whereby he annoyed Hermus; and it would be 


Tears and Smiles 


59 


hard for anyone to fathom the multitude of low- 
down tricks Jesse played on him except for one 
who himself had seen such a black sheep and a 
scoundrel in some family within the province of 
his own ken. 

In addition to the many other bitter reminis- 
cences Hermus well remembered how, when the 
smaller brother wanted anything Hermus had, he 
simply demanded it, threatening that if he re- 
fused he would tell that he was again grimacing 
or jactitating; and he could certainly never for- 
get the incident of his pinching his vaccinated 
arm and going out in his night shirt to complain 
that the other punished him. He could not help 
being reminded at the sight of him how much 
this brother had added to his already unhappy 
existence as a child. Hermus was studying and 
working. He now had some money saved up and 
held a good position; Jesse would call on him at 
his work and demand money. Hermus granted all 
his requests quickly, as he was anxious to get 
him out; his appearance and manner were not 
nice. There was a world of contrast between the 
two brothers. When Hermus did not feel that 
he could do all that the brother demanded, he 
threatened to put up a job on him. 

When Jesse did work at all he was around 
hotels ; but he was no success. He was impudent. 
He had begged, borrowed, stolen, tramped, de- 
lighted in the vulgar tricks of the lower world — 
and did not hesitate to brag about his adventures 
and conquests. He would just as lief engage in 
a bloody street brawl as not. When he looked 
tip Hermus he wanted money. One day Hermus 


6o 


Tears and Smiles 


refused to give him more than five dollars, and 
he became disorderly in the office where Hermus 
worked, and said out loudly, among other things, 
“Look here, you will pay that money you owe me 
or you’ll be sorry — that’s all.” Everyone in 
the office heard this, and in the minds of some 
of the clerks, and especially of those who would 
have liked Hermus’ position and were below him 
in rank, the disorder was gratifying, and cer- 
tainly not to the decorum of the place. Besides, 
all knew that Hermus was a foreigner, and those 
below him were secretly jealous of him, and any 
incident that might discredit him would be a sort 
of a point in their favor against him. The younger 
brother, then, in a lower tone, told Hermus in 
German, “If you will not do things I want you 
to. I’ll put up jobs on you. You do not know 
whom you are dealing with. I have men and 
women friends who would swear to anything.” 

Hermus granted his request then in order to 
get rid of him, and the younger brother pro- 
ceeded to call at the residence of his brother, 
spoke to the landlady, told her he was his 
brother, and that he was looking for him, because 
his older brother had run away from Europe and 
took his money with him. The only explanation 
Hermus made at the office and at home was that 
the young man was his brother — but as for the 
rest, he just suffered in silence. 

At the age of twenty-four, Hermus had parch- 
ments from a medical school and from a law 
school, and was now studying engineering. He 
did not wish to give up his position, and still, 
having his evenings for himself, and having ac- 


Tears and Smiles 6i 

customed himself to having something to study 
all the time, and being fond of occupation, he 
proceeded to study, probably for learning’s own 
sake too, and for the diversion such studies 
furnished. Later he became city editor of one of 
the daily papers, but he did not like some of the 
things about that particular establishment. He 
resigned and wrote special articles. Then he 
opened a law office, and later practiced both law 
and medicine at the same time. In the beginning 
the revenues of both professions had barely 
covered his expenses, but things looked prosper- 
ous, and prospects were good. Anon Jesse popped 
up and began his old tricks of coming into the 
office at unexpected times, in the same old man- 
ner, with the same sort of demands and threats. 
Hermus became discouraged and gave up his 
office. He knew his brother was bound to be an 
endless source of disgrace to him; he did not 
care to prosecute him; he did not want to have 
anything to do with him. He went West to 
supervise the construction of a railroad bridge, 
as engineer; after this whatever he had touched 
was a success. 


V. 

One day Hermus heard of a little girl of eight 
years. The child was an orphan and lived with 
a sister who was married to a foreman in an oil- 
cloth factory. The child was beaten and abused. 
She had to do the washing of the married sister 
and her two children. The little girl would wash 
and scrub and cook and nurse, and get up early to 


62 


Tears and Smiles 


prepare breakfast and call her sot of a brother-in- 
law in order that he might not be late going to 
the shop ; and when she was not swift about her 
duties the brother-in-law had his wife’s consent 
to punish her. 

“Madam,” said Hermus, as he entered the 
home of the oilcloth foreman with a police 
officer, “I hear that your litle sister, Hallie, is not 
going to school as she should, and that she is 
working more than she ought to at her present 
age.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you. Mister,” said the edentated 
sister of twenty-five summers, carbuncled com- 
plexion and traces of much whiskey in her 
breath, “I made up my mind that I’ll get my 
money’s worth out of them, that’s all. I took 
care of my other sister, and when she left school 
she got a job in my husband’s department and 
earned nine dollars a week. She would get her 
wages and bring the money home to me like a 
good girl. I expected she would work and earn 
long enough to repay me for my trouble of taking 
care of her for the three and a half years between 
the time my mother died and the time she got 
the job. But instead, why, she did me dirt ” 

“Did you dirt!” 

“Yes, she did not work quite four years when 
oif she goes and gets married — that’s what she 
did — married a bookkeeper, who has nothing to 
do but sit in a fine office with a white collar and 
cuffs on, play with a pen and get more money 
than my husband gets for working, and her hus- 
band actually had the impudence of telling me 
that we have no business to have beer or whiskey 


Tears and Smiles 63 

in the house, and that I ought to go to a dentist 
because it is sickening to be near me, and that 
he did not want me and my husband to come to 
visit them when any of his friends were there; 
because we are not fine enough for them, I sup- 
pose. 

“Look here,’’ she continued, opening a dilap- 
idated trunk and unrolling a yellow file of time- 
stained documents. “My father was a captain in 
the Civil War, and his great grandfather fought 
in both wars with England, and we are good 
enough for anybody.” 

“I am afraid you do not understand your 
brother-in-law,” said Hermus. “If he were not 
proud of all that he would not advise you to have 
your teeth repaired and for both of you to stop 
drinking — he would probably not take that much 
interest in you. But that is not the issue 
here ” 

“Well, what the hell is the damn issue,” roared 
a big man in a red undershirt who sat at the 
kitchen table, with a tin can of lager and a box 
of crackers before him. “State what you want — 
and Officer Mulligan, what do you want here?” 
starting towards the callers. 

“The officer came with me. I just want to see 
to it that the child cease working as she does and 
that she go to school as she should, and I will 
take it upon myself ” 

“Take upon yourself nothing!”’ interrupted the 
sister. “I gave the other one just such chances, 
and she went back on me. She is a tady now, and 
we are not good enough for her now. I will not 
nourish another snake in the grass ” 


Tears and Smiles 


64 

I 

'"Madam, you do not have to. I shall take it 
upon myself to relieve you of nourishing either 
a snake or this child, and to see to it that the 
child and you be relieved of each other, and this 
will be done within three days.’^ 

""You can take her right now, if you want to.’^ 

Hermus lost no time. He looked at Officer 
Mulligan. Mulligan understood. The officer 
took the child by the hand and told her that he 
would take her to his house where she could play 
with his own children. 

‘"Wait, let me clean her up,’’ said the sister, as 
she threw a bundle on a chair and ordered the 
child to stop sweeping and change her clothes. 

“That ain’t necessary,” said the policeman. “I 
got five kids of me own, three of ’em is girls, and 
I know I’ll be able to fit her with gladder rags 
than that truck.” 

The child seemed to understand that it was all 
for her own good, as if by instinct, and oifered no 
resistance, except when her sister kissed her and 
said, “Go with the officer, he’ll lock you in the 
jail,” when she started to cry some. It did not 
take Hermus long to reassure her, however, and 
the little girl seemed to be satisfied. 

Hallie was placed in the Mulligan home until 
Hermus found school connections for her, when 
he placed her with a family in the vicinity of the 
child’s school. 

Hermus now felt that he had a little friend, a 
pet and a charge. How proud and happy he was 
that he could do that much towards relieving the 
sorrows of the world? The little girl was well 


Tears and Smiles 65 

dressed and fed, and was in every other respect 
equal to the other children. Hermus had written 
to her sister that she could see the child on 
Thirty-fourth Street, at the home of Mrs. Carter, 
but the child had been in the new atmosphere 
three and a half years when she came to see her 
for the first time, upon invitation of the child, in 
her own writing, to come and see how happy she 
was with her roomful of Christmas presents. 

The sister came with her husband, Mr. Baxter, 
the foreman. The child was glad to see them, 
while the couple of kinsfolk gazed at the beauty 
of the child and then upon each other, in shame. 
Little Hallie called their attention to her two 
alligator skin trunks, her two dolls, almost as 
large as herself, her boxful of extra doll dresses, 
her new fountain pen, her picture books, her 
closet full of clothes, her sealskins and other fur 
collars, her new muff, a boxful of gloves, her 
new little shoes and leggings and gold pins and 
buttons and a little silver watch and the pretty 
Christmas tree with boxes of candy, two rings 
and packages still unopened hanging upon it be- 
tween the candles and decorations. 

'Who does all this for you ?” asked Mrs. Bax- 
ter. 

"My brother,’^ said the child, merrily. 

"You know you have no brother. He is nobody 
to you.” 

"I love him though, that is who-body he is to 
me. Look what he told me to give you.” 

The child handed her a twenty dollar gold 
piece. 

"Isn’t he lovely!^’ she exclaimed. 


(66 Tears and Smiles 

“You’ll be in love with him next,” protested 
Mr. Baxter. 

“When you come again — by next Christmas — 
I’ll play on the piano for you,” said the child, 
reaching for her sister’s hand. 

“Are you going to study that?” 

“I have been, for almost a year, but the teacher 
says I must not play for anyone yet, just practice 
my little pieces.” 

Something seemed to choke the visitors. They 
stood stunned and silent for awhile. Mrs. Baxter 
began to shed tears and her husband to clear his 
throat. He looked about him much embarrassed, 
searching for a cuspidor, until the child led him 
to the bath room. The landlady entered and 
stayed for a few minutes in the child’s room, 
during which time the Baxters did not say a 
word, and then they left, Mrs. Baxter weeping. 

On the way homeward Timothy Baxter wanted 
to borrow the gold piece from his wife, but she 
would not stand for it. After much fussing, how- 
ever, they agreed to change the coin and spend 
two dollars of it on liquor, but Mrs. Baxter in- 
sisted that she would have her teeth fixed for the 
balance. 

Hermus watched the development of his little 
friend as lovingly as you watch your flowers, and 
he found a world of pleasure in the well-merited 
affection of the dear ling. Hermus hardly realized 
that Hallie had soon grown to be a young lady, 
and was still fond of him. The Baxters did not 
come again, but Hermus occasionally brought 
little things and got little “Sister” to send them 
to Mr«. Baxter with her love. 


Tears and Smiles 67 

Hermus would delight in helping Hallie with 
her lessons. When she did not understand any- 
thing she would wait till he came, and asked. If 
it was very important she would call her 
‘‘Brother” by telephone and ask; and how he 
loved to teach her and tell her how to do things ! 
When he was out of town, by the time he came 
back she had pages full of questions jotted down 
for him to answer. She had now grown big 
enough to be a chum to Hermus. She was a 
great comfort to him. He often left the city on 
account of business; this fact occasioned the 
necessity of Hallie’s frequent movings and 
changes of school. 

The fact that Jesse occasioned him so much 
disgrace made Hermus a sort of a rover. He 
could not stand disgrace; he would offer no ex- 
planations, and people would form opinions. He 
would move soon after his brother would be on 
his trail. He would fix up a bachelor’s home fit 
for a king, part of which was a combination of 
a library, chemical laboratory, studio, machine 
shop, place of music and mirth and tools and 
inventions. Everything was tasteful and immac- 
ulate. He had invented several patents, some of 
which he sold and some he gave away. 

He was sent to the legislature. 

He soon learned that when a new member came 
to the Capitol the first thing his colleagues did was 
to teach him to play poker. Then they introduced 
him to their friends who had no particular pro- 
fessions, but happened to be at the capital on 
business, and who always talked of bills they 
would prefer passed. These friends were what 


68 


Tears and Smiles 


they called lobbyists. These lobbyists managed 
to get in with members of the legislature and 
play poker with them. They were good players, 
but still they would lose. They lost wilfully in 
order that the office-holders should win. This 
was considered respectable, and the oldest and 
most usual way of bribing legislators. Everyone 
knew what these men were there for, and still 
all played with them and won, and then vote for 
the measures of these lobbyists. These lobbyists 
were professionals. That was all they did, and 
people and corporations who wanted favors 
would transact their business with them, and the 
lobbyists did the rest. Occasionally members 
would deceive such lobbyists, and those who did 
would have no other chances to play poker and 
win as before, and then, for some unexplained 
reasons, their free railroad passes would be with- 
drawn. 

Hermus could not reform this system alone; 
nor was there any way to prove such acts to be 
bribery, and thus bring the culprits to justice. 
He felt he could not effectively do the service for 
which he was elected. He did not see as much 
honor in the office as he was hoping to find. He 
resigned, and came back to his work, his books 
and — Hallie, who was now twenty-one years old, 
with a heavy heart. 

Hallie was enraptured at his call. She had 
hundreds of notations of things she wanted to 
ask him. No one had as much patience with her 
as Hermus. When he could not answer questions 
of hers offhand, he would go through a houseful 
of books if necessary, and he regarded no bounds 


Tears and Smiles 6g 

between day and night until her little quests 
were gratified. 

“Little Sister/' he said, “it will soon be time 
for you to leave me for a better field of happi- 
ness." 

She could not stand it. She thought it a hint 
for perpetual separation. It all dawned upon 
her. She was only the adoptling of a benevolent 
man, who raised her and would now throw her 
into the cold world. Many thoughts agitated 
her in that moment. She thought for a second 
that her friend had lost all he had, and that she 
had now become a heavy charge upon him. She 
bethought her age, and that she was no kin to 
him. She wept bitterly. 

“I'd rather die than leave you. Let me go to 
work for my living, but be my friend, my father, 
my brother, my everyone, just as you have been 

all these years. I could not leave you " she 

sobbed. 

“You are now old enough to marry, child — 
and you'll find someone and leave me. That is 
what I meant, and then — and then I shall again 
be alone in the world." 

“You will not be. There is no one like you; 
and I want to be your little sister — forever." 

^‘Forever is a long time. I am not quite so 
selfish as to expect from you all that sacrifice. 
You are a well qualified young lady, good enough 
for any gentleman. Any good man would be 
proud to have you. You must not ignore that 
fact. I am an old bachelor, your senior by fifteen 
years. People will talk and " 

“Is that such a big difference?'’ she sobbed. 


70 Tears and Smiles 

*^Vd be happy to stay your ^Little Sister’ if you 
were a hundred years my senior. Tell me, who 
intruded into your life to take my — my place?” 

‘‘No one.” 

“And can you forget how good you used to be 
to me; and would you now, all of a sudden, go 
back on me?” 

“I am afraid you do not understand. I should 
always look out for you ; but I want you to enjoy 
some of the freedom of the world. I should take 
care of you the same as always ” 

“Hermus.” 

“Yes.” 

“There used to be a time when you would tell 
me your plans. You never used to talk in riddles 
with me. Now, won’t you please use plain 
English and tell me what’s up. Now, honestly, 
sincerely, truly ” 

“Well, I’ll tell you. You have been the sun- 
shine of my life for years, and I think of you 
more and more every day. You are old enough 
to marry. No one thinks of you more than I, 
but it would be unfair of me to talk like that to 
you. I am too old for you; and it would seem 
like taking an unfair advantage — as if I had 
picked you for that purpose — years ago. You 
like me like a child. My love for the little bud 
has increased as it bloomed forth, and ” 

Miss Hallie could always consult Hermus. She 
would always ask him how to do and what to 
do. How she wished she could ask him what 
words to say to suit her purpose now! 

“I know,” she sighed. 

“You do? What do you know?” 


Tears and Smiles 


71 

tv 

“What’s the use, Old Man, be open with me. 
There is a woman in the case. Who is she? O, 
tell me ; then I’ll go away, so as not to make her 
jealous. ’Fess up!” 

“Yes, Hallie,” patting her dimpling hand and 
smiling, “there is a woman ” 

She seemed to conjecture, but she doubted. 
She was so uncertain. Her words were lacking. 
She was so dependent on him for what to do and 
how, that almost mechanically, she was going to 
ask him what to say now, when she whispered, 
“I knew it; you’ll tell me who it is, won’t you?” 

“If you promise not to tell.” 

“You know I never tell.” 

“One cannot tell, you know ” 

“Now,” she said resolvedly, reaching high and 
holding on to his shoulders, “Who is she?” 

“Ah, that’s the question.” 

“Yes, and you will answer it.” 

“Yes, and I shall have to answer it.’’ 

“Well, who is it, sir?” 

“Well,” said he, with his arms gently around 
her, and his head lowered sideways, to her ear, 
“guess.” 

“How can I guess? You never told me you 
knew any girls; and I have no idea whom you 
know. Yes, I have an idea. . . . No, I 

haven’t. . . . Who is it? Please say it; do 

not hold me in such awful suspense. Who is it?” 

“Well, it is a young lady I have known for 
thirteen years. She has been very kind to me in 
times gone by, and I am very grateful to her. I 
don’t know that she would have me, but I won- 


72 


Tears and Smiles 


der. She is much younger than I am — a good 
old friend. You know her, too.” 

^ Where does she live?” 

“Not far from here.” 

“And what is her name?” 

“Hallie.” 

“O, you are such an odd fellow — it is so 
sudden — kiss me, quick.” 


Tears and Smiles 


73 


BROTHER MASONS. 

There never was a more healthy, chunky, 
powerful little girl in the vicinity, and as her 
years increased the sturdiness developed the 
more, and it occasioned her parents no little 
anxiety that the little girl’s strength seemed too 
great for her immature frame. When she was 
twelve years old, but for the short skirt super- 
imposed by custom, she might have passed for a 
marriageable young lady. She had one of those 
miens that would provoke a smile on every coun- 
tenance which obtained a glimpse of her ; and her 
round, fleshy face, large blue eyes, light brown 
hair and those eternal mellow dimples, and that 
perpetual gaze of innocence, beauty and curiosity, 
that elastic gait of dignity, that dainty ponder- 
ously, and that indifferent, aimless, immaculate 
and delicate expression of good nature, have long 
been the sunshine and pride of dim Delancey 
Street. To the neighbors who have watched her 
since she was in the cradle, with whose little ones 
she had played, and whose smaller children she 
had time and aga n sung to sleep, to the little 
boys with whom she ran races, played ball, swam, 
wrestled, and to 11 those who had occasion to 
hear her sing the popular ditties of the day, and 
the little classics she had accidentally picked up, 


74 


Tears and Smiles 


she was the very fountain of sweetness, fairy 
laughter and melody. Her very words as they 
escaped the labia, on the way from the chords in 
her throat as they puffed, pulsed and reverberated 
into liberty, issued a music that transcended the 
atmosphere — even her merest speaking voice — 
to enjoy the like of which one had to possess the 
acquaintance of — Bridget. 

She had expressed the ambition that when she 
grew up to be a man she would be a policeman. 
Later she thought a drayman had a better time, 
because he was absolute master of horses and did 
not have to hitch on in order to enjoy the 
pleasure of a ride. As her tender days rolled by 
her ambitions rambled from the aforesaid futures 
through the enviable callings of street car con- 
ductor, night watchman, fireman, chimney sweep, 
carpenter, switchman, brakeman — according to 
the various degrees of skill, strength or bravery 
displayed in the vocations with which her momen- 
tary observations impressed her; and there was 
nothing to dishearten her harmless longings and 
her confidence in their possibility. Nor was she 
much disappointed when, as years elapsed, she 
learned her ambitions were impossible; but sub- 
mitting to the inevitable, she resolved that when 
she grew up she would be a cook. Even this 
determination was transitory and subject to im- 
pressions, as the first. She tho ught scrubbing in 
the factory paid better than washing, and that it 
would be fun to work in a c apartment store, 
where, she heard from Mollie G ‘eer, there was a 
floor- walker, who was bossy a id inconsiderate, 
that the girls submitted to hs abuses because 


Tears and Smiles 


75 


when he would report them they would be in 
danger of losing their employments, and when 
she grew up, and were treated in that manner, she 
would enjoy the pleasure of thrashing him. 

One day she passed a neighboring saloon and 
wished she were the bartender. There was a 
clumsy bartender grappling with an inebriate, 
trying to evict him, but the loaded customer held 
on to the swing door. Bridget thought she would 
squeeze the unwelcome customer’s wrist and the 
paralytic effect of her pressure would cause him 
to release his hold. She thought if she were a 
teacher she would play with the children, and 
sometimes remove the desks and throw a few 
barrels of sand on the floor, hold a cane and 
watch fair play among them. She did not care 
for the stage. One morning a woman was picked 
up in the alley, who, when brought to, said she 
was an actress. Her father did patrol duty and 
Bridget was near. He was going to call an 
ambulance, but Bridget took her home, put her 
to bed and nursed her. The actress declaimed 
some, which Bridget might have liked but for 
the odor which at the same time issued from the 
mouth of the tragedienne, then her white pillows 
were stained from the color that faded from the 
actress’ lips and cheeks, and when she saw the 
patient hang her hair on the foot of the bed, lay 
her teeth on the mantle, and take many other 
parts of her anatomy asunder, and lay them 
around, she decided that the drama consisted of 
people who had to be taken apart till nothing but 
a skeleton remained to go to bed with, and she 
abhorred the very meditation of it. 


Tears and Smiles 


76 

The boys organized a Masonic society and 
Bridget was the only girl admitted. Eddie Field 
contributed an old kimona of his mother’s to 
serve as a uniform for the master ; his father was 
a Mason, that is why, he said, he knew that was 
necessary. Gottlieb Schulz was made a walking 
delegate, but his office required a sword and as 
there was none in the crowd, Gus Liebling 
brought two red handled discarded knives which 
had been so much sharpened in his father’s 
butcher shop, that only the thick backs remained, 
with just enough acuteness to their edges to 
leave a trace of their past identity; and as one 
person could not use two swords, another walk- 
ing delegate was elected. They elected a noble- 
grand to guard the entrance to the shed where 
the meetings took place. No one was obligated 
until he served his apprenticeship by hauling a 
bucket of sand, a few bricks, a bagful or two of 
pebbles, some lime, plaster of Paris, or by break- 
ing stones and doing other useful Masonic work. 
The old bricks would be broken, and the pebble 
and sand and the whole conglomeration would 
be mixed in soap boxes with water, and the 
sweepings which one of the boys brought from 
his father’s Portland cement shop were then 
thrown in, making good concrete, which would 
be used for the erection of a throne for the 
master, benches for the officers and walking dele- 
gates, and other things, by shaping the concrete 
in moulds first made from old boxes. The ap- 
prenticeship was the hardest part of the sect, be- 
cause they sometimes had miles to go in search 
pf the necessary material ; and many would never 


Tears and Smiles 


77 

finish working their ways because they became 
discouraged by the duties imposed on apprentices. 
Those who went through were initiated, sworn to 
secrecy, obedience, honesty, fraternity, charity 
and fair play ; then they obtained from the walk- 
ing delegates their grips and pass-words, solemn- 
ized the ceremony by horizontal and lateral 
movements of the right hand, indicating in what 
manner they should be slain with the swords of 
the walking delegates, which would be tied to 
their girths with remnants of clothesline, if they 
betrayed the secrets ; and they ended the initiation 
with solemn oaths, yells, shrieks, cheers and 
crossings of the hearts. They had to use 
Schmalz intead of the goat. Schmalz belonged 
to the butcher; he was not as agile as a goat, but 
much safer. They had once borrowed Dora 
Duggin’s billy goat, but he became so balky that 
he nearly broke up the lodge, on which account 
there was suspension of meetings for several 
days, because most of the leading members sus- 
tained some injury or other in trying to initiate 
the goat to his duties in the fraternity. They 
would have tried again, but Dora would not let 
her goat go unless she be made a Mason, which 
was voted down. Schmalz was a lazy Saint 
Bernard, so fat that it was a great effort for him 
to move sometimes When he was commanded 
to stand with the knight on his back he would 
walk aimlessly, hanging out his tongue and pay- 
ing no attention to orders; then they would beat 
him. When they wanted him to give a candidate 
a fast ride, he would lie down, ignoring every- 
thing ; but he was patient. Occasionally he would 


Tears and Smiles 


78 

display great interest in the proceedings; and 
when he was not ridden for a long time he would 
go to one of the members and smell and kiss and 
fondle and flatter him till he would persuade him 
to sit on his back instead of on the concrete lodge- 
made brick. At times, again, he would run so 
fast that the rider had to hold on to his long hair 
and ears, but this was not common. There was 
a change of ofiicers every week. They called 
each other brothers. When Brother Bridget 
presided she would renounce and expel boys who 
would commit certain offenses, and would not 
associate with those who associated with them, 
and as everyone was ambitious for her society, 
she was an elevating influence generally. If one 
fought with a boy below his own size, she ex- 
pelled him for cowardice. 


II. 

When Bridget was fourteen years old, on a 
dark evening, when the snow was driven by the 
west wind, and it was hard to catch a breath 
when the storm broke the current to the mouth 
or nose, and the walk was glazed with frost, a 
long-haired spaniel, half dressed in woolen, seek- 
ing further protection against the weather, 
pecked into her skirt and pulled it ; as she turned 
towards it the wind blew into her mouth, which 
just opened to wondering, and she slipped; as she 
grasped in the atmosphere to recover her’ balance 
and gasped for breath she dropped her purse, 
which was lifted by a well dressed stranger, who 
hastily caried it off. She soon recovered her 


Tears and Smiles 


79 


equilibrium and followed and took the culprit by 
the nape and held on till he surrendered the 
booty, then she nonchalantly opened it, gave her 
victim a dollar and released him. She thought 
he must have been poor and needing it. Then 
she went home and fainted, and remained in bed 
for several days. 

Her music teacher came the next day, but 
there was no lesson. Her mother was not living 
now. The cause of her death was never com- 
municated to Bridget. Bridget, being an excep- 
tionally powerful and healthy child, found the 
sedate diversions of the other little girls not 
violent enough; girls of her development were 
not common in the city, so most of her chums 
were boys, and. she participated in most of their 
games and pranks. 

One day they played funeral, and some of the 
children were stretched out for dead; one boy 
had a camera and photographed the dead, made 
copies of the pictures of the psuedo corpses, 
biers, flowers, shrouds, palls and all, and dis- 
tributed them among his merry companions. 
Years after a number of various photographs had 
thus been taken, a collection of which was among 
the playthings of Bridget, her mother, one day, 
prompted by curiosity, looked over them, when 
she came across Bridget stretched over two 
chairs, decked with white, flowers under and all 
around her, dimpling as if alive. She kissed the 
picture, then shed a tear, everything turned 
gloomy, a horrible distress befell her, she began 
to lament: She thought she had lived with the 
child all the time, she forgot that she was dead 


So Tears and Smiles 

all these years, she wondered how she could ever 
get over the loss of Bridget, then she gave a 
shriek, and a weird, insane, hoarse cry of agony, 
and fell against the glass door leading to the 
library. When she was raised and put to bed 
there issued from her horrified bosom a few 
terrible, gurgling sounds which threatended to 
stretch her pharynx out of proportion. The 
physician came too late. The picture, which was 
found on the floor, was destroyed. 

The bell rang, and the music teacher who sat 
there for the plural purpose of warming herself, 
filling in the time which the lesson would take, 
visiting with the patient and making herself gen- 
erally useful, went to the door. A gentleman 
with a foreign accent inquired for Mrs. Bridget 
Patricia de Laney. Madame Delevan informed 
him that Mrs. Delaney died two years ago and 
her daughter, Bridget Delaney, was indisposed. 
The stranger presented his card : 

Baron Heinrich Heimleiblicher, 

DOCTOR OF RIGHTS, 

Vienna, Austria. 

He came to notify Mrs. Delaney that her grand 
uncle, a bachelor, an officer of the Austrian army 
and member of the Legion d'Honneur, who died a 
month ago, bequeathed to her his vast personal 
estate, consisting of West Shore bonds, Servian 
and Italian government bonds, and some Austrian 
government lottery certificates, one of which. No. 
13861, made the haupttreffer of two hundred 
thousand crowns, which was now due with one 


Tears and Smiles 8i 

per cent, interest. The musicienne called up the 
police division of which Mr. Delaney was now 
captain and gave him the tidings. The captain 
brought his friend, Attorney Kohensohn, with 
him, and the lawyers of the two continents en- 
countered no difficulty in making Bridget the sole 
personal representative of the estate of the late 
General von Moriaertie. 

Bridget was sent to a boarding school on the 
Hudson, Mike Dougherty went to a foundry to 
learn the core-making trade, Fred Snyder became 
an apprentice in a carpenter shop, Jimmy Flint 
went to work in a grocery, Sammy Lowenthal 
found a job in a clothing store in Fifth Street, 
Johnny Ryan, the amateur, went to work in a 
real photographic studio, Arty Klein worked in 
his father’s cement store on Front Street, Tim 
Sturgis went to a business school, Larry Burns 
moved West, Jakie Schindelheimer became cash- 
ier in his father’s pawnshop, Eddy Field became 
a gardener, Pete McDermid was killed by a 
street car, John Jackson started out in a news- 
paper office, Jerry Flanagan was a bell boy in a 
hotel, Dora Duggan was reception clerk in a 
doctor’s office, Schmalz had the hydrophobia and 
was shot, Billy Carroll went to college, Elsie 
Fadden died in an epileptic fit, and the whole 
crowd dispersed. 

Bridget did well at school, and the new atmos- 
phere wrought a decided change upon her. She 
became an excellent musician and a fine student. 
While she was away her father retired and built 
a new home in the suburbs. There would call a 
foreigner who had no special business, but was 


82 


Tears and Smiles 


marriageable; he was of blue blood and Bridget 
was an heiress; there were young members of 
wealthy families and neighbors and friends her 
father had made under the new conditions. 
When Bridget came on a visit to her father and 
grandmother there would be compliments, sing- 
ing, servants, bottles, feasts and crowds of guests. 
Bridget longed to see some of her old friends, 
but there was not a familiar face outside of the 
family. She looked in the city directory once for 
familiar names, but there were confusing double 
initials and several people of the same name, and 
none at the old addresses. She was particularly 
anxious about One, but it was immodest to ad- 
vertise, and the directory had no trace of him. 
When she left school she soon became accus- 
tomed to the new home and to the pretty dresses, 
jewels, servants and equipages and her check 
books and the friendship of young ladies and men 
who were born and raised in opulence, and to the 
glib monologues of representatives of industries 
soliciting her to invest her fortune in enterprises 
ranging from supercapitalized chimerical oil 
wells to copper and cold concerns whose stocks 
were guaranteed to rise one hundred above par 
in a week after she would part with her money. 

Once she donned a plain dress and went 
through the old neighborhood, passing through 
the alleys and side streets of her childhood, hop- 
ing to see a familiar person, but of no avail. Her 
manner and gait had changed in conformity with 
her new habits, she belonged there, no more, she 
did not look natural ther/, and people and chil- 
dren pointed at her. 


I 


Tears and Smiles 83 

A young man, whose calling sometimes took 
him in the vicinity of the new Delaney home 
would glance toward it with a sigh, wondering 
how She was, if she was in town, whether she 
married, if she was happy — as happy as she was 
when they were brother Masons. He would stop 
and hope for a familiar figure to egress, whom 
he could greet and speak to, but it did not happen. 
In those moments his mind would wander back 
to when they played hide-and-seek, baby in the 
hat, tag, when they used to spin tops together. 
How guilty he felt when he recalled how he used 
to cheat her in a game of marbles. Then he 
wondered if she would speak to him if he did 
meet her. He remembered how, when he acci- 
dentally struck Mike McKenna on the shin with 
his shinny-stick, Bridget hastened to the pump, 
soaked her handkerchief and cleaned and dressed 
his contusion, and how Mikey continued crying 
until she kissed him! He could see her on one 
foot, hopping from square to square, kicking an 
oyster shell, playing hop-scotch, and how he used 
to cheat her in a game of pussy by monkey-turn 
measures. He could hear her say “No fair,’" and 
how argumentatively he would convince her that 
she was mistaken and that he was “on the 
square I” 

He would have tried to enter, but his calling 
had given him many lessons in the evolution of 
human nature. Then he cogitated what a fool 
he was, standing there and hoping for a glimpse 
of one who never gave him a thought. Still, as 
if controlled by a magnet, every time he was 
within a half mile or so he managed to pass that 


84 


Tears and Smiles 


way. He would not presume. He would go 
through every stage of human emotion ; he would 
imagine himself talking over old times with her, 
being introduced by her as an old friend; he 
would picture himself being snobbed. He would 
imagine her as the wife of someone who did not 
know her, did not understand her, could not ap- 
preciate her; if he had but a glimpse of her he 
could read it all. He would deliberate an excuse 
to call up her home under some pretense, giving 
a fictitious name, but his tender instinct would 
not let him decieve her even for an instant; it 
would be misdemeanor, sin, sacrilege! And the 
more of these little tricks his fertile brain would 
evolve and his finer senses reject the nearer she 
was to him, and he would quote mentally: 

. . But suffer me to pace 
Round the forbidden place. 

Lingering a minute. 

Like outcast spirits who wait. 

And see, through heaven’s gate, 

Angels within it. . . . ” 

III. 

Bridget would think about a boy who must 
now be a man — somewhere. She remembered 
how he had whipped a larger boy for calling her 
some name; she could not help contemplating 
that youthful gallantry and friendship in com- 
parison with the young men who now came to 
cpf. t\Tow it was all formality, sham, display, 
pomp, flattery. ^ 


Tears and Smiles 


8S 

One afternoon a messenger boy paddled his 
way through the bustle of horses, automobiles, 
footmen, carriages and guests, delivered a sealed 
envelope to a servant addressed to Bridget. The 
boy waited for answer. Bridget read : 

“ . . . The writer is one of your playmates 

of years ago. I do not expect you would have 
time to see me, but won’t you let me know how 
you are?” 

It was written on brown Manila paper, and 
signed ‘‘John Jackson.” She read the note over, her 
eyes became dipped and dim ; he gave no address. 
“How shall I let him know anything?” she mut- 
tered; then she noticed the boy, and was in- 
formed that he waited for reply. There she sat 
and fidgeted; mindless of her surroundings, 
folding and unfolding the note ; “Why did he not 
come himself?” she wondered. Then she wrote 
an answer. The boy turned on his heels and ran, 
with the right hand in his vest pocket, holding 
tight the gold coin which she gave him. The two 
hours of the boy’s round trip seemed an eternity 
to John. Her note read: 

“You are as welcome as a ripe apple. I shall 
be glad to see you any time. Be sure and come. 

“Bridget.” 

He fastened his eyes on the missive, inverted 
it, eyed it sideways, as he saw the hand-writing 
experts do at court; but the writing was not 
familiar. It seemed too nice to be real. He 
meditated a moment, closed one eye, as if to de- 
tect some resemblance, placed one hand on his 
upper Hp, coaxed his barbules, and eyed the lad 


86 


Tears and Smiles 


suspiciously, while the latter fumbled in his 
pocket. “Did you see the addressee herself?” 

“You bet she was dressy.” 

“I mean,” smiling, “did Miss Delaney write 
this herself?” 

“I seen her do it.” 

“Describe her.” 

“Well, I don’t know as I kin,” still fumbling 
to guard the coin. “But I know she is an eighteen 
karater all right.” 

“I mean, how does she look?” 

“O, she’s a pippin.” 

“Look here, kid, I want to be sure you saw the 
right party. I wish you’d tell me all you saw 
about her. Now, do you understand me?” 

“Say, don’t I know a peach when I see’t? She 
was the dressy all right; and there she was with 
the sparks. She’s a gig walk, she is. My, but 
she is a tall tommy, ’most ’s big ’s you ; her white 
glad rags was too long at one end and short at 
the upper. Say,” still fumbling the eagle, “just 
send me to a dame like that every day, and soon 
I’ll be president of the comp’ny; she’s a dandy 
turkey,” and as further evidence of good faith 
he produced his tip, “see what she gi’n me!” 

John was at work when the boy returned. To 
go home for a change of clothes would have 
taken too long, so, with the inevitable brown pad 
in his coat and several lead pencils protruding 
from his breast pocket, he started for her home, 
but instead of the papers of the day, he took with 
him her note, and killed time during the ride by 
basking his eyes on it, and musing, “as welcome 
as a ripe apple.” 


Tears and Smiles 


87 

His easy ways betrayed his profession. Those 
present paid little attention to him until Bridget 
came down, when the congeniality was conspic- 
uous. There was the voice of real feminine 
ecstasy, a hearty hand shake, a kiss, and — 
^‘John!”— “Bridget!’^ 

After formal introduction John observed a 
painting, the picture of a small boy, with mussed 
hair covering most of the forehead on one side, 
a mischievous grin, one tooth missing, one eye 
opened wide, looking awry, feet and legs bare to 
the end of the trousers above the knee, the 
trousers held up by two bands of suspender pass- 
ing over one shoulder ; at the other hip, where a 
button had been, fibres of thread hanging loosely, 
a large apple in one hand, and the other grasping 
two layers of suspender on one side of the chest. 
It was as nearly real as art could make it, an 
enlargement of one from a group of photographs 
of little Masons. He instantly recognized his 
once self. “Do I look much like the picture?” 
he asked. 

“You look just like that — to me, John.” 

The young men in the drawing-room who did 
not understand the connection looked at the 
picture, looked at John, then laughed in chorus, 
loud and caustically; but the aspect was trans- 
formed enviably when Bridget excused herself, 
left her social duties in care of a friend, invited 
John through the place, showed him her con- 
servatory, the sunken garden, her favorite horse, 
picked grapes and fresh tomatoes with him in the 
hot house, and took time to tell him of the way 
she spent her hours, entertaining and being en- 


Tears and Smiles 


tertained, traveling, visiting. She showed him 
her painting outfit, her library, her china, and 
what not. 

‘'Are you happy?” asked John. 

She sighed. No answer. 

“Who are the gentlemen?” 

“Friends.” 

“What’s on to-day?” , 

“A little reception. Nothing extra.” 

Then Bridget piled him with questions. He 
told her that he was a reporter, and had been all 
through the country gathering experience, had 
started as an office boy with one of the papers, 
“but,” he said, “you left my question unanswered. 
I asked if you were happy.” 

“Well, I am somewhat out of my elements, 
John, are not you?” 

“Not now. What are those young men?” 

“Ed Wentworth’s father is a traction man, Jim 
Quaile’s father is United States Senator, Fred 
Cowper’s father owns one of the department 
stores, Gerstling’s father is a brewer, Willard’s 
father is president of an insurance company. Doc 
Simpkins would be a physician, but his mother 
won’t let him practice, says he don’t have to, 
Gompers’ father just died, he was a banker, Ben 
Robinson is in the automobile business, has been 
for years, but he has never been in his office but 
twice. Do you want to know all about the girls, 
too?” 

“Is that a hint for me not to ask questions ?” 

“No, glad you are interested. The girls are of 
the different families, and their friends.” 

John was amused, and she could see traces of 


Tears and Smiles 89 

it through what struggled to become his mus- 
tache. “What are you smiling about?” 

“I just wondered how this crowd could live if 
their fathers were not.” 

“What do you care ?” 

“I am interested in the company you keep.” 

She laughed that warbling mirth and chuckle 
of melody. “Now,” pointing to a bench, “we’ll 
sit here while you’ll tell me all about yourself, 
business and everything.” 

“I never talk business to ladies.” 

“Please do, John ; I am a business woman, you 
know.” 

“But I just came to visit !” he protested. 

“You must tell me.” This with a deep, mellow 
gaze into his eyes. 

“There is not much to my story. I am a cog 
in the great news-gathering system, and we cater 
that commodity to the people. In my line, one 
who gathers the best news and presents it the most 
readably is the most valuable man; I am just be- 
ginning to be a real useful reporter.” 

“What do you do when nothing happens?” 

“For one, I can make things happen, but that 
is not often necessary. Something always turns 
up. When too much happens we do not print 
everything, and when less, we elaborate and go 
into details.” 

“Are you happy?” 

“Fairly so, now.” 

“Tell me some of the adventurous incidents of 
your business.” 

“That would fill a library, and I would not 
know where to begin. You must not neglect your 


90 


Tears and Smiles 


friends, you had better go in; Fll tell you some 
of those things another time.” 

“Tell me, just a few of the troubles of the 
business.” 

“We get hardened to them, just like the boy to 
the thought of shedding blood when he is shoot- 
ing birds. It is business, sport, bread and every- 
thing to us; no trouble at all.” 

“Leave out; talk about yourself alone.” 

“I told you I was only a cog. In recent years 
a demand has been created for sensation, and in 
the brevity of time in which the facts have to be 
gathered, written, edited, proofread, printed, 
shipped and sold, there is not any too much time 
for exactness, and the people are hungry for 
sensatious matter, so one sometimes has to hit 
harder for the sake of sensation, cast aspersions, 
write up allegations, sometimes with sad results.” 

“How about the law?” 

“There are quibbles in the law, and it is my 
business to know such technicalities as affect my 
calling; besides, prosecutors and judges will fa- 
vor us some, because we can serve little good 
turns to them. Sometimes a reckless man does 
get into trouble.” 

“I never read of newspaper men being prose- 
cuted.” 

I “They are, but they do not appear in the press. 
None of us knows who will be next, you know. 
But the people crave for scandal. It is not en- 
tirely our fault.” 

' “Are there no papers outside of that kind of 
business ?” 


Tears and Smiles 


91 


**Yes, but my line is what they call yellow 
work.” 

“Don’t you think you are in the wrong busi- 
ness ?” 

“I have the best paying job on our staff, and if 
I resigned, there would be a dozen applying for 
it tomorow; and what a chump I would be, out 
of work, for scruple.” 

“I think you are wicked.” 

“Thanks, Bridget. You did not ask what good 
I did, only the adventures of the buisness; even 
you were most interested in the sensations end. 
You must now go in and see your friends. May- 
be you can reform some of them, I am all right.” 

“If you make me go in, you must come with 
me.” 

“I should not venture to try to make you do 
things, but I must go; I shall have to work till 
midnight, perhaps longer.” 

“Will you come to-morrow?” 

“Impossible.” 

“Next day?” 

“Hardly, thank you, Bridget,” starting away. 

“Wait, stay for tea, please.” 

“I must go; but if you will see me. I’ll try to 
drop in in a few days ; I cannot state any definite 
time. If you’ll be out it’s all right, then I’ll 
come again.” 

“I will not be out till you come. I must talk 
with you, about — ^your affairs.” 

“Now, no sermons. Good bye.” 


92 


Tears and Smiles 


IV. 


Did he not care to be with her? Did he dis- 
like her, because she asked about things that were 
none of her business? To think that he would 
rather go to work than be with her ! She was 
rude to him, did not accord him due respect, in- 
sulted him. She meant well, but it did not seem 
so to him. If he but knew her innermost thought 
of him! She would write and explain, but he 
left no address. Now she despised his occupa- 
tion, then she did not ; he was better than anyone 
in her crowd, and what a polish there was about 
him, that finish no dress suit could substitute! 
What a relief to have been with him. He said 
he’d come again. 

Such were the revolutions of her mind. Few 
women can comprehend what work means to one 
in John’s station, and how a few minutes’ neglect 
or inattention to duties might subvert the current 
of his upward movement in life. What did she 
know! 

John started about his business in routine 
maner, while his soul was in the suburbs. 
Parents and children whom Bridget used to know 
had begun to save their pennies and nickels in 
August for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. 

She knew that, as well as their numerous other 
vicissitudes; and, he reflected, wondering how 
she could ever outgrow those recollections. 

He began to decide in favor of the likelihood, 
after all, that labor and capital, and the rich and 


Tears and Smiles 


93 


the poor, actually could not understand each 
other, because, not only many of them, born and 
raised outside of the atmosphere of the opposite 
classes, but even Bridget, who was born in the 
very heart of the slums, used to give her play- 
things to poorer children, and loved to help those 
around her, had so changed in the new surround- 
ings as to waste her young life on the superflu- 
ities incidental to idleness and luxury. Would 
these people know her under the old conditions? 
It could not be. She said she was out of her 
elements. 

Thus he cogitated, until one of the other cogs 
was reported ill, and another being on vacation, 
the city editor called on him to supply the de- 
ficiency by doing, in addition to his own, some of 
the duties of the absent men. The additional 
work was a great diversion to his disturbed mind 
— and rather fortunate that he did not stay for 
tea. 

He called on Bridget whenever he could spare 
the time ; they had ample occasion to talk matters 
over. Then she began to receive anonymous 
letters concerning John. At first she used to 
destroy them, but when they became more fre- 
quent she once said, “They are telling awful 
things about you.” 

“They must be very interested. Did they say I 
stole or murdered?” 

“No, but that you have been in bad company.” 

“I have been with you all the time I could spare 
lately, and you are no bad company.” 

“But before ” 

“You were not here, and I did the best I could. 


94 Tears and Smiles 

and had the next best company — who told you 
those things?” 

‘T received word.” 

^^No one would dare give me such word about 
you/' this rather sternly. 

“But,” she pleaded, understanding the hint, 
“anonymous letters ” 

“Well, I refuse to be defendant unless my 
accuser stands face to face with me.” 

“No one tried to make you defendant — but it 
is so awful that they say things about you.” 

“Say what things?” 

“Here,” handing a note, “read for yourself.” 

“I do not read anonymous stuff, it is against 
the rules of this department; but,” grinning, “I 
can stand things they say about me in that man- 
ner.” 

“Do you know, John,” said she, changing the 
conversation, “I want to get out of this atmos- 
phere, and go to live in a smaller house. Will 
you help me select one?” 

“With pleasure,” heaving a breath of relief. 

“And then I shall take time to help other 
people.” 

“Good girl!” 

“And I’ll tell everybody that I am going to be 
busy now looking for another house, and would 
let them know when we’d move — I don’t know 
where.” 

V. 

The opportunity of helping her look for a house 
brought them together all the time John had be- 


Tears and Smiles 


95 


tween work and refreshments. In their excur- 
sions from suburb to suburb they would exchange 
reminiscences, talk about their old games, the 
boys, Dora Duggan’s goat, the mortar and the 
concrete they used to make, the old shed in the 
alley ; they would recall their early ambitions, talk 
about poor Schmalz. He would call her Brother 
Bridget, they would greet each other with the 
Masonic signs conceived by themselves years 
ago ; and these expeditions would excite curiosity 
and comment among Bridget’s friends, who were 
waiting for notice of the new address. 

They have now spent a good many days to- 
gether. Whether they found that house or not 
has not yet been announced. They are out of 
town now, on their wedding trip. 


96 


(Tears and S'miles 


THE BLACK HAND. 

{From a Diary) 

In Central Park, New York, I inadvertently 
overheard the conversation of anarchists. Their 
language was that of educated men ; their habili- 
ments were common; and they hardly expected 
me to understand Italian. There were about 
seven in the group, and a few hundred feet south 
of this spot I had seen a larger number of their 
countrymen several minutes before. 

I sat on a bench, reading. The seven sat on 
the ground; one hugged his knees in order to 
hold himself in a vertical position ; one lay on his 
back; one on his side, and each as his idiosyn- 
crasy inclined. 

The conversation was not loud, but rather ani- 
mated. Something was said that startled me. 
They saw my sudden movement and ceased talk- 
ing. I was conscious of their embarrassment, and 
in order to relieve it, turned to them and said in 
their language, “Long live the Craft!” 

“Camarado!” exclaimed a chubby man as he 
rose to grasp my left palm with his, and pressed 
my wrist in a certain manner with his thumb. 

I was a member of some secret fraternities. 
All these fraternities have certain grips; and in 


Tears and Smiles 97 

all of them the responsive grip is the same as the 
hailing one. 

I pressed on his wrist in the corresponding 
place and answered, “Camarado.’' 

There was intense interest displayed on their 
countenances. One who had faced the storms and 
the devils of the world in the manner and as long 
as I did, did not have to exercise any uncommon 
amount of tact to be equal to such an occasion. 
And I enjoyed the opportunity, too; for what 
would life be if it were not a school, to teach one 
something every day. I had nothing else to do. 
It was a great diversion. I had nothing more 
left in the world to lose; and I meant to make the 
best of the occasion. 

The men looked at each other under standingly. 
I was calm. All left me, except one, my “com- 
rade,” who was, no doubt, to ascertain whether I 
was trustworthy. 

“How long have you been a fratellof” 

“Not long,” I said, “only since there was noth- 
ing else left for me. How long have vow been?” 

He gave me a tale of hard luck. He had been 
cheated out of his earthly goods, he could not 
rise to his proper sphere since. Then he needed 
money ; he appropriated funds not his own — and 
fell. Then the world had no pity on him. Re- 
ligion was a farce. All paid taxes to churches, the 
churches had their priests ; the priests preached 
the accepted doctrines of the creeds ; and yet, out- 
side of the church, there was no room in Civiliza- 
tion for the patrician who had once fallen. There 
had to be established a new order of things for 
the millions who had made mistakes in life, for 


98 


Tears and Smiles 


the world, as it was, was too small, and had no 
room for such a one. He did not so much object 
to great wealth as to certain existing conditions. 
Disabilities wrought upon men who had made 
mistakes would have to be removed. And tem- 
porary anarchy was the only salvation for the 
millions in his unfortunate position. Men in 
that fix usually turned to lives of crime, because 
people would not give them chances to make 
honest livings; and society was barred against 
them. And so forth. 

I went to headquarters with him. The head- 
quarters were not more than five hundred yards 
away 'from the police headquarters. It was a 
huge brick building with an Italian macaroni 
shop on the first floor, and the rest of the house 
occupied by some members of the craft. 

We had taken a Broadway car downtown. 
After some straining attention to his rather 
rapid Italian, my mind became tired ; and I asked 
if he could not speak in some language that was 
easier for me, for I had not practised my Italian 
in eighteen years. We talked French then; but 
he cautioned me not to talk too loud, for many 
Americans understood French. 

At headquarters there were some thirty-five 
persons, all Italians. My “comrade” introduced 
me as Signore Biondo. It was the easiest name 
to remember, for I was many shades blonder 
than the lightest comple.xioned of them, and, in- 
deed, I was the only blond. 

All became interested in me. Anon a table was 
decked with nuts, raisins, figs, orqnges, bananas, 
apples, pears, peanuts, plums and what not; and 


Tears and Smiles 


99 


it was time for lunch. These were the thing's of 
which the common meals consisted. In the cen- 
ter of the table was a plate for anyone who de- 
sired to contribute to the common fund. I con- 
tributed a dollar and took a cluster of grapes. I 
w'ould not have anything else. Cardellicchio, 
my comrade, contributed a nickel, another man 
put in a few coppers. I was told that the pro- 
visions were contributed by some of the mem- 
bers, who conducted fruit stands and groceries, 
and that the pecuniary contributions went toward 
the rent. 

I was immediately popular. I still wonder if 
the dollar was not the chief cause of it. Every- 
one related to me how he became an anarchist; 
and sometimes a half dozen talked at me simul- 
taneousty. I caught information in bits, as it 
was flung at me. In fact, I believe I received the 
best Italian lesson in my life on that day. I cer- 
tainly did hear some talking. It was an interest- 
ing Sunday afternoon. Then I went my way, 
promising to come again at some meal hour, 
when I could meet the different members of tne 
craft. 


II. 

I came on Tuesday evening at six o’clock. 
Everybody was cold and distant. I did not seem 
welcome. There were a number there who but 
two days ago laid their lives bare to me and 
now looked at me with enlarged eyeballs, amaze- 
ment, horror, confusion, pallor and suspicious 
reticence. Some looked the pictures of sup- 


100 Tears and Smiles 

pressed anger. I was apprehensive that they 
suspected me. 

“What is the matter, signori, have you gone 
back on me?’' 

Never did I hear such vituperations in all my 
travels. There was not a vile name in the Eng- 
lish and the Italian tongues that I was not called, 
all at the same time, and by as many lips. 

“Where were you since you left this place?” 
asked Signore Cordino. 

“Let’s see. I believe I went to a Masonic 
Chapter last night.” 

“Ask l;iim where he stops,” commanded a dirty 
fellow. 

“Are you not staying at the Hoffman House ?” 
continued my interlocutor. 

“Yes.” 

“See, he confesses !” “Ah, I told you.” “He 
defies us.” “It was good shadowing.” “Son of 
a Dog.” “Find out whom he is working for.” 
“Where did he learn Italian !” “What does he do 
for a living?” “Trace him to his birth!” were 
some of their violent suggestions hurled at each 
other. 

/ was the coolest man in the mob. I begged 
them to sit down and let us talk it over ; and in 
order to cause them to feel that I was not afraid, 
I was the first to sit down, and began to peel an 
orange. 

“He uses a gold knife,” exclaimed one. 

“Sit down, fools !” I thundered. 

All took seats except one. He was big, in- 
clined to be red, and very tough. He asked me 


Tears and Smiles ioi 

to follow him to a room on the floor above for 
a private interview. 

This was no time to lose my composure. I 
suspected what such a private interview might 
culminate in. 

“No, comrade. You do not look quite straight 
to me. I feel much safer with the whole crowd 
here. What you have to tell me, you can tell in 
the presence of the craft; and what I know I 
will as lief tell to all. No private interviews.” 

“Sit down, Rosso,” came a commanding voice; 
and the big tough sat down opposite me. Every- 
body else sat Now I noticed two youths stand- 
ing behind me, which made me feel uneasy, 
although I affected all the nonchalance I could. 

“Cappuccia,” I said, “you would not hurt a 
friend from behind, would you?” 

“Why, no,” said one of the cabbages. 

(“Cabbage” is the pet name of an Italian boy.) 

“Then why don’t you sit* where you can study 
his face, and see whether he is true.” 

“Well spoken,” said Sollivano; and the youths 
sat upon the empty fruit boxes, where I could see 
them. 

I was the target of so many questions that it 
was plain that my answers to them would not 
restore their confidence. I was asked a score of 
things at the same time. The questions ranged 
from what my business was to where I got my 
scarf pin, who was my tailor and where I learned 
French; how long I had lived in New York, and 
where I was known by anarchists. 

The last question was my poser. 

“Ask not another question. I will tell you my 


102 


Tears and Smiles 


story in my own way.” This elicited their at- 
tention, and I continued : 

'‘Some six years ago I was engaged to a Miss 
Mary D. in Pittsburg. Her father, Mr. D., was 
a real estate agent ” 

“What does D. stand for?” asked the tough. 

“Diavolo,” for all it concerns you. 

“Serves you right, Rosso, for interrupting. 
Continue, Signore Biondo. Call him Diavolo. It 
is your personal affair. You need not mention 
any real names,” said Cardellicchio, taking notes 
with his pencil. 

Everyone began to look sympathetic. It 
started out like a love story, and no man is too 
low to be interested in a real one. I continued: 

“I had a little strong box containing valuables. 
I asked Mr. Diavolo to let me keep that box in his 
vault. He consented. He was such a church 
man, you know ! You see, I was engaged to his 
only child ; I trusted him, and took no re- 
ceipt ” 

“Of course not,” interrupted Cardellicchio. 

“Shut up!” said Rosso, who claimed a grudge; 
“stop interrupting.” 

“No more interruptions, men,” commanded old 
Sollivano. “Continue, Biondo.” 

I resumed: 

“Anon Mr. Diavolo told me that the house, 
which was in his wife’s name, was mortgaged, 
and that payment was past due. Pie asked if I 
could not lend him enough to clear it. I had just 
about enough for it, and I gave him the money. 

“I told you he was a real estate man. As such 
he had charge of the collection of the rents of 


Tears and Smiles 


103 


different sorts of houses. I say many houses in- 
habited by as many different classes of people, 
of as many different characters. Some of those 
houses had people of only one sort of charac- 
ter ” 

“You mean women,’’ interrupted Grosso, an 
adipose, good-natured butcher. “Go on, it is 
plain.” 

“One day Mr. Diavolo invited me to go with 
him to one of those houses for ‘a hot time,’ as 
he termed it. I would not go.” 

“Of course not,” leered the butcher, dubiously. 
“You are too good. There are just two perfect 
men on earth, you and the Pope.” The butcher 
resumed sucking the mouthpiece of his pipestem, 
and I went on : 

“To go into details would take weeks. I must 
be brief to tell you the whole story in one ses- 
sion: Things happened that rendered me sus- 
picious of the old man’s honesty; and I went to 
see if the mortgage was paid off. It was not. 
Then I went to him on several occasions and 
asked him to let me have my box of valuables. 
He was dilatory. His procrastinations annoyed 
me; and when I was persistent he finally said 
that I would have to prove that I gave it to him ; 
and when I told him that members of his own 
family knew it, he said that if I sued him he 
would say that he did not know what the box 
had contained; that his vault had been robbed, 
and that my things were lost with his valuables. 

“He had the criminal law down all right, as 
you see. 

“Then I went to his wife, and I told Mrs. 


104 


Tears and Smiles 


Diavolo my troubles. She wept bitterly. She 
was very sorry. She told me that at the time he 
married her Mr. Diavolo was engaged to another 
young lady, and that after the wedding the dis- 
appointed fiancee sent a letter to the bride, writ- 
ten to her by the young groom, saying that he 
was sorry to break oif the engagement, much as 
he was attached to her, but this lady having some 
funds was a great help to him, and hence the alli- 
ance. And the unhappy wife is still in posses- 
sion of the letter, written to the other girl, twenty 
odd years ago. I read it. Poor Mrs. Diavolo 
told me facts enough about him to satisfy me 
that he was a diavolo, indeed ” 

''And he was a church man,^’ interjected the 
butcher. 

"Yes, such a one as would give twenty-five dol- 
lars to a public charity when his wife wanted 
necessities. You see, that advertised him. Then 
Mrs. Diavolo, her daughter and I agreed that 
Miss Mary and I get married without paying any 
attention to him, that I leave the city, go West, 
and my little wife would follow me on receipt of 
telegram from me, calling her. 

"My bride remained in Pittsburg. I did not 
have much money, but left all that with her, ex- 
cept about fifty dollars. She accompanied me to 
the depot. Before we parted she asked me to 
leave with her my watch, chain and stud, saying 
that I might lose them among strangers. It was 
childish of her, for I have been among strangers 
since my ninth year, but I complied.’’ 

"Husband, wife and daughter were in con- 


Tears and Smiles 


105 

spiracy to fleece you,” observed an old sailor of 
hardened features. 

'‘Well, I went West. I wrote and telegraphed 
for her. No answer. Then some of my letters 
began to come back, readdressed by my wife. I 
knew the writing well from the letters she used 
to write me.” 

“Have you any of the love letters?” asked Sol- 
livano. 

“You see, I left my trunks with her, to send or 
bring them to me ; they contained her letters ; and 
she took them back. I have some few bits of her 
writing. I know her writing all right. 

“Well, I was in Chicago a few weeks. I wrote 
my wife a letter every day. Some of them were 
registered. I had not much money. She had my 
address from some of the letters which she had 
opened. Then the postoflice notified me that 
money orders made out to me and mailed to me 
in Pittsburg were accepted by her, and the let- 
ters opened and destroyed and the money orders 
cashed, and the money kept, by her. 

“But I must be brief, for my story is long. A 
constable arrested me on a charge brought 
against me by a Pittsburg woman, one of the 
friends of Mr. Diavolo, who followed me for 
that purpose. She admitted that Mr. Diavolo 
gave her my address, paid her expenses and her 
lawyer. She had in possession the only photo- 
graph I had given my bride! She charged me 
with ” 

“A child on the stage ?” grunted the butcher. 

“Something like that.” 

“That was a device by the old scamp to turn 


io6 Tears and Smiles 

your wife against you/’ opined the sailor, who 
was a preacher in the old country before his mis- 
fortunes came. “She was not quite mean 
enough to suit his purposes without some such 
job.” 

“Well,” I continued, “I had a mock trial. It 
cost me five hundred and fifty dollars and attor- 
ney’s fees; and a nasty record to stand against 
my name for life. Entire strangers signed my 
bond. 

“Then I was mad, and wrote some angry let- 
ters to Mr. Diavolo, his wife and his daughter. 
Had I written the same things on postals, it 
would have been punishable under the law. So, 
what does he do, Diavolo forges my writing on 
postal cards, sends them to himself and gets me 
indicted and prosecuted, to make me another 
record. 

“In the meantime I obtained a divorce from 
his daughter. I had witnesses to prove worse 
things, but I begged the judge to grant it on the 
ground of desertion only. A divorce — one more 
record. 

“To vindicate his daughter, Mr. Diavolo also 
obtained a divorce, by fraud and default, having 
charged that I was a married man at the time I 
married his daughter, and in order to keep me 
in hot water, prosecuting me for the alleged in- 
sults that reached him on the postal cards, at the 
same time. — A sort of a taint of bigamy — an 
additional record ” 

“He first robbed you, then fooled you out of 
the jurisdiction, next broke your heart, then be- 
smirched your character; and then kept you on 


Tears and Smiles 


107 


the defensive in order to hold you down during 
the limitation of the law; so that if ever you do 
get up and try to get back at him you’d be too 
late,” judged the sailor. “He had lawyers to 
engineer that job all right.” 

“I had another mock trial,” I continued. “Mr. 
Diavolo swore the postals were in my writing, 
and I was found guilty. But Mr. Diavolo had 
written many libels about me to people who had 
known me, and who turned those letters over to 
me. I gave those letters to the judge and 
showed him that those letters and the postals 
were in the same writing. Then the judge said 
that he did not believe I wrote the postals; and 
the fine was not imposed. 

“Now, remember, it took more than three 
years for all that I now briefly told you to hap- 
pen.” 

“And how did you live all that time?” asked 
old Sollivano. 

“I worked. I found employment in banks, in 
railroad offices, I did translating. I reported in 
the courts. I wrote some for the Press. Then 
I became a lawyer ” 

“Stop him, stop him!” cried the butcher, roar- 
ing with laughter. “Do not let him go any 
higher. Lawyer is far enough.” 

“Signori, you doubt my narrative, and I shall 
not continue.” 

“I believe you so sincerely,” said one of the 
cappuccia, who a little while ago was on the 
committee to shed my blood from behind, “that 
I swear every word is Gospel truth.” 

“That is another extreme,” grunted Grosso, 


Tears and Smiles 


loS 

smoking furiously; “but it is interesting. I shall 
not interrupt you again. Go on.’^ 

“Go on,” begged everybody. 

III. 

“Well, I was shadowed all the time, just like 
you gentlemen shadowed me since our first ac- 
quaintance. All my new friends and clients and 
business connections would receive anonymous 
letters, saying that I had ruined a young woman 
in Pittsburg, that I had married as a bigamist, 
that I had been convicted for sending obscene 
literature through the mail, that I deserted a 
young wife a few hours after I married her ; and 
it referred to the records of the litigations I had 
had. It interfered with my business; and new 
acquaintances, who knew no better, preferred to 
shun me. Then fellow attorneys would talk 
about these things. You know there is always 
a hungry lawyer who thinks that every client he 
turns away from you will go to him. Then there 
is another class, the kind that for a remuneration 
would circulate the scandal in the fraternities, in 
the clubs, in the churches, in the hotel lobbies and 
in the saloons — that would call up your new ac- 
quaintances, and even your landlady, and the 
various members of her family, and your fellow 
boarders — to spread the defamation; and then 
there is the innocent gossip, who circulates it free 
of charge, glad to have something to talk about ; 
and as everyone adds his own version to the tale, 
it usually becomes more and more horrible in 
transit. And it was hard. Acquaintances 


Tears and Smiles 


109 


would ask for explanations. Everyone thought 
he was entitled to a separate explanation all for 
himself, and Chicago was a big city. I would 
make many friends, only to lose them soon, when 
these stories would follow. Good many would 
not even ask for explanations, for it was less 
trouble to judge; they would simply cut me, and 
would caution others against me, repeating what 
they heard. Many of these hooting ladies and 
gentlemen were such as would throw themselves 
into one’s way, and pass stinging remarks as they 
would go by one in the streets; just to have oc- 
casion to say at home that they had affronted 
one; for there are influences in which such con- 
duct qualifies one for society, and there are peo- 
ple — ^yea, such as wear silks and broadcloths and 
diamonds — who never cease bragging of their 
own insolences.” 

“Why did not you go back to Pittsburg and kill 
Diavolo?” asked a cabbage. 

“That would have made another record in my 
life; and I already had enough to try to live 
down. And I certainly did not wish to be hanged 
for him. But the worst is yet to come.” 

“Mary, mother of God, have mercy upon 
him!” prayed Sollivano, making the sign of the 
cross. 

“I became connected with a newspaper called 
the Chicago-American. The nature of my posi- 
tion was this : People from all over would write 
to the Counselor for legal advice. I was the 
Counselor; and I would answer the inquiries. It 
was a much envied position; it was conspicuous, 
and some lawyers, if they do envy anything, it is 


no 


Tears and Smiles 


prominence. I began to make some clients ; and 
soon after a client would come, he would have 
copies of those records sent to him. They sent 
them to my friends, the editors and the owners 
of the paper. 

“Aside from all this, I had made enemies in 
Chicago. A large city has a great deal of cor- 
ruption. Many of these corrupt institutions had 
come to my observation, and I used to expose 
them in my articles. I told you I wrote 

some . For instance, there was a system of 

justices of the peace; and the justices had their 
constables. They worked for fees and commis- 
sions. They would blackmail, extort, miscarry 
justice and rob in a manner that it would take 
too much time and parley to tell you now. I had 
a hand in breaking up the system, and in estab- 
lishing municipal courts instead, whose judges 
are on salaries. These justices made a desperate 
fight for existence. What I knew about them I 
wrote. My charges against them were never 
denied. Every lawyer knew them to be true. I 
wrote about other corrupt men and organizations. 
So you see, I had enemies. 

“One of these justices was also a lawyer. He 
had been a wife-beater for many years. He 
lived in my neighborhood. His wife found some 
love letters in his clothes. She had other griev- 
ances, which she suppressed, until the letters 
from the other woman came to her hands. She 
followed up the letters and traced the writer; 
and soon found other bits of evidence.” 

“I understand,” grunted the butcher, drowsily. 

'Well, I brought suit for her, as her lawyer. I 


Tears and Smiles 


III 


had the justice evicted from his wife’s house, and 
got him to pay alimony for the support of her- 
self and her minor son. Her husband, together 
with Mr. Diavolo, and my other enemies, com- 
bined their forces to crush me. The first thing 
they did was to go to my neighbors and tell them 
that I confided with them most terrible scandals 
about their wives. This occasioned my making of 
enemies where I expected friends, for they were 
people I befriended continuously, like a good 
neighbor naturally would. Those that did not 
become enemies, at least became neutral and dis- 
tant, whilst I counted on their friendships. To 
render these calumnies credible, my enemies pro- 
duced certified copies of the records of the per- 
secution I had sustained, which went to show 
how wicked I was. Then my enemies would send 
mutual acquaintances to me, whom I later found 
to be in with them, to tell me that those same 
neighbors had said unkindly things about me. 
By now I was a busy man. The only time I was 
contented was when busy; for then I was di- 
verted from my unhappy state. I would write 
letters berating such people as would thus be re- 
ported to talk unkindly about me; whilst at the 
same time, they were led to believe that / talked 
about them. 

‘T experienced some pangs of ingratitude, too. 

“Then this justice of the peace put in a defense 
to his wife’s suit to the effect that he was very 
innocent, that the only reason why she sought the 
divorce was that she was in love with me, her 
lawyer, whom she wanted to marry ; that her said 
lawyer was a very bad man; and he set forth in 


1 12 


Tears and Smiles 


the pleadings the humiliating misfortunes I had 
been through, to make it appear to the court that 
I was just the sort of a man that would be apt to 
try to break up a happy home. And the papers, 
which would always make the best of anything 
that was suggestive of scandal, would take hold 
of the thing and exploit it to the utmost; and for 
more than two years I saw my name and my 
picture in the press almost every day, with noth- 
ing modest said about me; and the many justice 
shop lawyers and the other justices and con- 
stables would busy themselves to annoy me day 
and night, and sue me and get judgments by 
fraud and default, which I would have to pay, 
and to prosecute me on various pretenses, just to 
keep me busy and upon the defensive, while other 
underhanded work was engineered behind my 
back, and they would give unfounded and ter- 
rible tales about me to the papers, in order to 
lampoon me and to vituperate me, probably in 
order to drive me out of the case.” 

“And did they?” asked old Sollivano. 

“Once they asphyxiated me with gas. They 
broke into my office twice at night, attempting to 
steal my papers. They poured vitriol on a client 
of mine as she left my office; but I would have 
stood by her at all hazards.” 

“Good for you !” said one of the cappuccia. 

“It must have been hard to endure it all,” 
sighed Cai;dellicchio. 

“I am brief. When I get through, you will not 
yet have heard the thousandth part; and the 
worst is yet to come.” 

“Father, Son, Holy Ghost, God, save him !” said 


Tears and Smiles 113 

Rosso, the tough, making the sign of the cross, 
a half dozen comrades pattering and crossing 
after him, and the rest staring with mouths wide 
open, except the butcher, who lay on the filthy 
floor, snoring. 

‘T’d rather not finish the story,” I pleaded. ‘T 
hate to talk trouble.” 

But they all seemed interested. They insisted. 
I was apprehensive for my safety; I wanted 
their confidence; until I would find opportunity 
to break away for good. I well saw my fate if 
they once became convinced that I was a spy. It 
was my hoax when I started out. I couldn’t 
spare my life just now ; I had too many duties to 
attend to in the world. They urged me, and I 
resumed : 

“Well, sirs, my enemies persuaded the state’s 
attorney to let them file proceedings against me, 
in his name, asking the supreme court to take 
away my license, so that I could not practice law. 
But there had to be some sort of a trial ; so they 
recommended a rebellious little German to be 
master in chancery; and they appointed a class 
of lawyers to prosecute me that would actually 
have been a disgrace even to the justice shops 
which I helped drive out of existence, by the new 
law, which was soon to be of force, leaving them, 
as lawyers, out of their elements. They had 
neither decent shoes nor clothes nor clean linen. 
They were poor and mean. My enemies selected 
this class in order to render my humiliation as 
keen as possible. I was marked for slaughter. 
The trial consisted of many sessions. I had evi- 
dence galore to show that the judgments obtained 


Tears and Smiles 


1 14 

against me in the past were secured by fraud, 
that the proceedings were fraudulent, and that 
the whole nasty work was wrought by very 
filthy enemies ” 

“Skunks, ’’ interrupted Sollivano, with a sigh. 
“You fell in with skunks. Win or lose, you had 
to be marked by the brunt of the skunks. And 
not one skunk, but many skunks. Do you know 
how skunks fight? Let me tell you ” 

“Never mind telling us how skunks fight,” 'said 
di Castro. “This is supper time. Continue, 
Biondo.” I resumed : 

“Well, there would be disorders and fights. 
My witnesses would be insulted. The sessions 
would break up in disorder. Then motions 
would be made to the supreme court, asking it 
to fine and imprison me for contempt, charging 
that 1 raised the rows. After every session I 
had to defend against such suits. My prose- 
cutors would bring the charges, and the master 
in chancery would certify that the charges were 
correct. Then this master in chancery would 
give false stories to the press, representing them 
to be true reports of the proceedings before him. 
When I was not busy at the supreme court in 
Springfield, I had my hands full at the master’s 
office ; when not there, then the R. case kept me 
busy.” 

“What was the R. case?” asked a cabbage. 

“That was the case of Mrs. R. against the jus- 
tice of the peace.” 

“Why don’t you give us real names ?” protested 
the other cappucci. “Who was Mr. R. ?” 


Tears and Smiles 


115 

“Call him Rognozo,” suggested Cordino; “but 
do not let them interrupt you for want of names/’ 

“And,” I proceeded, “the Rognozo case was 
finally tried by another judge; the first judge, 
who had ordered IMr. Rognozo to support his 
family and to get out of the house, died. Now 
the divorce case was up before Judge M ” 

“Call him Macchinatore,” said one. 

“Judge Macchinatore was an enemy of mine, a 
friend of my enemies, and a politician, who 
would always cater to the numbers. My enemies 
were the numbers; I was only one; and he 

hoped to be re-elected . But that is another 

story ” 

“Why was he your enemy?” asked Cardellic- 
chio. 

“He claimed I wronged him on two occasions. 
He was an Israelite, who has not lived up to his 
own faith nor to any other. I had occasion to 
write him a business letter a few days before the 
Jewish New Year. I made a postscript to my 
letter. The postscript was in Hebrew, wishing 
him a Happy and Prosperous New Year! 

“He claimed that my Hebrew writing was sar- 
donic, and that I intended it as an insult. I did 
not think I needed to apologize; and when he 
accused me of the insidious insincerity I took 
back my good wish and told him to go to the 
devil.” 

“Well done,” said the tough. “That was one 
occasion. What was the other occasion?” 

“I tried a case. During the proceeding of the 
trial I made the remark that you can always tell 


ii6 Tears and Smiles 

a bird of prey from its hooked beak. He grabbed 
for his nose ; and everyone laughed.’’ 

“Well said,” added Rosso, the tough, bringing 
forth volleys of laughter. 

“But,” I continued, “it was not fun for me to 
try a case before him, which could have been dis- 
posed of in a reasonable time, and which he wil- 
fully and venomously held in court for months; 
in order to be in the limelight, in order to have 
his picture in the papers in connection with the 
case, from time to time, and in order to give his 
wife, his friends and his relations chances to sit 
upon the bench at the right and left of him. No 
court ever looked more like a pawn shop or a 
frippery store than when he had his friends 
there, to whom he thus made exhibitions of his 
exercise of power; and who appreciated the dig- 
nity of sitting with the judge. Once, in order to 
give the papers occasion to print a sensation in 
extra large red type, he declared that I was in- 
sane, for no sane lawyer would have persisted in 
standing by a woman, as I did by Mrs. Rognozo, 
who did not have much money, and had a hus- 
band who was so influential in the lower regions 
of Chicago! Only a lawyer can understand just 
how hard such a judge can make it for a young 
practitioner I” 

“Do I not know?” said Cordino. “Was not I 
a judiciary in Sicili?” 

“And was not I an advocate in Naples?” added 
another. “Do you think the fraternity consists 
of blockheads? Like you, we all have a story.” 

“Well,” I resumed, “when I was not busy be- 
fore this man I was busy at the master in chan- 


Tears and Smiles 117 

eery’s, or at the supreme court ; to say nothing of 
my other business. But I must be brief, and 
come down to the point. 

“The reason why, it was urged, I should not 
be allowed to practice law, was that I had such 
a bad record; what other reasons they submitted 
was inserted for the sake of volume only. To 
make things the worse, they enlisted Judge Mac- 
chinatore to do some lobbying at the supreme 
court, and to prolong the Rognozo case. The 
supreme court would impose large fines on me, 
as a result of the complaints certified by the mas- 
ter, and would order me to go back to the master 
in chancery to defend. Clients who would read 
of my bad reputation, which was thus manufact- 
ured, would become suspicious and run to my 
office in mobs. They would want their papers 
back ; they would want their retainers back. 
People heretofore respectful would now be inso- 
lent. They would preface their demands by say- 
ing that they were told by the secretary of the 
bar association to go back to them if I did not 
comply. I was proud. I did not have to comply, 
but I would not represent any client whose con- 
fidence I did not possess. I would give them 
checks, returning fees, even for work I had al- 
ready done, just to get rid of them. My fate was 
prearranged. The scheme was to make my fall 
as great as possible. In order to accomplish the 
trick they had to lift me to a high eminence. 
They got the newspapers to announce the start- 
ling discovery that I was a member of one of the 
royal families of Europe. The result was, that 
when I tried the Rognozo case, before Judge 


ii8 Tears and Smiles 

Macchinatore, the court room and the halls were 
so packed with spectators, that policemen and 
deputy sheriffs were assigned to make way for 
the lawyers to enter. We had night sessions, too, 
in order to give such of the judge’s friends as 
had to be in their stores all day, chances to sit on 
the bench with him. 

“Every time I would go to the master in chan- 
cery’s office there would organize the same row. 
I paid fellow lawyers to be with me, more as wit- 
nesses than as lawyers. They accepted my large 
fees and would not be on hand when I came to 
the master’s for trial. It has now become per- 
fectly legitimate to rob me. After I had sold my 
books, in order to buy necessaries, and was vir- 
tually moneyless, the supreme court ordered me 
to pay a large fee to the master in chancery. I 
did not have it, and so pleaded. The master re- 
ported that I refused to pay him and that I re- 
fused to present my evidence. The fact is he had 
a typewritten transcript of what evidence I pre- 
sented ; and what I could not present was due to 
his rows. I did not engage him in the first place ; 
so why should I have paid him? But that is 
neither here nor there. In vain did I defend. 
The court decided against me, by default.” 


IV. 

“It was a court of myrmidons,” observed one 
of the cappuccia, after some meditation. 

“That is what breeds anarchy,” sighed Solli- 
vano. 


Tears and Smiles 119 

‘^Chicago is the worst place in the world/’ 
added di Castro 

‘Tt was a long story, but I stated it briefly to 
you. All the big cities have their bad influences ; 
and I just fell into the mire. I started wrong.” 

“You married wrong,” said a tall, lanky man. 
“But what are you doing here?'' 

“I was a physical wreck when I left Chicago. 
I passed bar examinations in other states ; but my 
enemies would follow me. They would hire some 
hungry lawyer to show around that nasty record 
which the supreme court was fraudulently in- 
duced to make for me by default. This record 
was a sort of a compilation of all the records of 
which I told you, together with the report of the 
master in chancery, concluding, in substance, that 
all these facts prove me to be of such bad char- 
acter as not to be allowed to practice law. New 
acquaintances, who would tolerate, and more or 
less respect me, would turn with horror. Then 
people I knew, liked, served and befriended 
would turn their faces in the streets, to avoid 
seeing me. Wherever I would go, I would get a 
pleasant start, and then just such a finish! Then 
I would leave, unkindly vilified, only to encounter 
the like experiences elsewhere.” 

“Is he still talking,” mumbled Grosso, whom 
the flies had gradually awakened, as their num- 
bers increased. “Can’t you gag him?” 

Four men lifted the good natured butcher by 
his extremeties and carried him into the kitchen 
behind, in the hope that there he would regain his 
sleep ; and I proceeded : 

“I just came from Nashville. I am writing a 


120 


Tears and Smiles 


book, which may be printed, some day. It tells 
the story in greater detail than you heard it. I 
already have about a thousand pages, handwrit- 
ing. I am collecting evidence to prove every- 
thing I say in the book. I am on my way to 
Washington to copy some facts from periodicals 
filed in the Congressional Library. I was brief. 
This is the story of seven years. End.” 

“Thank Heaven! End!” said a coarse voice 
from the kitchen. It was the butcher’s. 

“Shut up,” cried an angry carbonaro. “You 
old pot of grease, if you don’t hush we’ll drop 
you out of the window.” 

General silence prevailed for a while. Nobody 
touched a bite during the whole interview. I said 
I was hungry, deposited a dollar on the plate, and 
took a fig. 

“Take back that dollar,” said old Sollivano. 
“Give us a dime, or less.” 

I tried to plead that it was a pleasure to make 
the contribution. 

“No parley, my word is law here. A dime!” 

I gave a dime. We all drew to the table. Then 
I ate about ten oranges, a handful of figs, two 
bananas, a pear, some grapes, a few walnuts — 
and then I was still hungry, but was bashful to 
eat more. 

Even Grosso, the butcher, who took his seat be- 
tween the two cappuccia, was in deep meditation ; 
and not a word was uttered during the repast. 

The crowd dispersed into the different sections 
of the building, some to play at their favorite 
games of chance, others to lounge, to drink, or to 
discuss 'tne, as they pleased. Five of the elders 


Tears and Smiles 


I2I 


remained with me. I was about to take my 
leave; the fact is, I was anxious to get to the 
hotel for a warm meal. I have never been so 
hungry before. 


V. 


‘‘Signore Biondo,” addressed me one. “You 
told us a specious story. Some of the craft be- 
lieve you; and some think you are a spy. We do 
not think either way. 

“But I inform you that we are an endless chain 
of men scattered in the world, whom neither im- 
prisonment nor gallows can cow. If you are a 
spy, Jesus have mercy upon you. Neither your 
life nor our lives matter that (he snapped his 
fingers) to us.’" 

“Yes, sir.’’ 

“Have you a clipping from a newspaper, show- 
ing your name in connection with what you 
said ?” 

“Thousands of them. At the hotel. I shall 
drive there at once and bring you a gripful, with- 
in an hour, if you desire.” 

“Don’t you stop with any carriage in front of 
this house !” 

“One clipping is enough,” said another. “We 
chose just one of the many bits of proof you 
claim to possess. I want a clipping.” 

“But my name is not Biondo, you know.” 

“Everyone knows that. We all have stage 
names.” 

“Noms de plumes,” laughed another. “We 
gave you a nom de plume, too.” 


122 


Tears and Smiles 


I came next day with a clipping from the Chi- 
cago Tribune. I also brought a number of docu- 
ments and produced them. The newspaper article 
covered a whole page, and contained my likeness, 
with my name under it. Mr. and Mrs. R.^s like- 
nesses with their names under it, and the picture 
of the judge, whom we called Macchinatore, with 
his real name. The carbonari were satisfied. 

“Now we have the real name of everyone con- 
cerned,” said Signore Cordino, pulling his greezy 
mustache. “Even of Mr. Diavolo. All we have 
to do is go to work.” 

“There is no work for you to do,” I said, pen- 
sively. 

“Yes there is. Diavolo must die.” 

“Nonsense,” I said. “Not till his time comes.” 

“His time has come ! Cesare will see to it. He 
can choose a s!ing shot or a cannon or a pill, as he 
sees fit. Or he can find a job in a lunch room 
where Diavolo eats, or wherever he drinks. 
Leave it to him.” 

“Who the devil is Cesare?” 

“Your friend. You do not have to know him. 
It has come to his lot ” 

“You are crazy. He will not hurt Mr. D.” 

“Him or you,” thundered Cordino. 

“Well, me, then! It was a joke. I am no cut- 
throat. I am no carbonaro. I am no anarchist. 

I put my nose in the hole — and the tale had to 
follow.” 

“Like a fox, eh! You are a spione, then?” 

“No spy, either. I just had nothing else to 
do. It was a deception for amusement, a hoax.” 


Tears and Smiles 


123 

^‘How about the evidence — all these papers, and 
the newspaper article, with the pictures.” 

Another poser. This took my breath away. 
The gazes of the five pairs of dark and mys- 
terious eyes burned mine. I sat down, exhausted. 

“You or Diavolo, will be dead within a few 
days,” repeated Cordino. 

“Not unless you are cowards enough to take 
advantage of me in this damned butcher shop. 
Not if I am ever in a street again.” 

“You saw no crime committed here. We are 
not afraid of you. You cannot prove anything 
against us, under the American law. And would 
you betray this crowd?” 

“No.” 

“Under any conditions?” 

“No.” 

“Diavolo will be dead on or before next Fri- 
day. We are your friends. The ballot was 
picked. His fate is sealed. That is the law. 
You may go.” 

I would not go. “/ will simply have to get out 
of this” I meditated. I was unhappy and lone- 
some. I wanted someone to talk to. I had not 
spoken Italian in a long time. It was interest- 
ing adventure. I meant no harm; hut I did not 
mean to join this craft. If Mr. D. is hurt, these 
fellows will own me forever, for they will know 
that I had a hand in a murder. I have an idea : 

“Signori,” I pleaded. “If he has to die, won't 
you assign me to the job? You ought to. I am 
the one that has the grievance.” 

“Bravo, bravuro!” exclaimed one of them; and 
after a short debate, the duty was assigned to me. 


124 


Tears and Smiles 


VI. 

I went to Pittsburg, for I had some business 
to attend to there. Whether I was shadowed or 
not, I could not tell, for I saw many Italians 
everywhere. They are quite numerous and well 
scattered; and generally speaking, like all classes 
of foreigners, they look more or less alike, unless 
you know them individually. Of course, I had no 
more murder at heart than I have now. What 
bothered me was the question of my own escape ; 
to say nothing of my more serious troubles. 

I got back on Sunday morning. Cordino met 
me at the Pennsylvania depot. He was very 
anxious about how I made out. He was about 
sixty years old ; and I felt I could talk with him 
in a manner the younger men would not under- 
stand. 

‘T am sick of this,” I said. 

“O, get it off your mind, boy. We all have 
dipped our hands in the same fluid. One bad 
man less in the world. You admit he deserved 
death, and he got it ” 

“Stop!” I ordered, in disgust. Then both of 
us were silent until we got out of the ferryboat. 

“Come, all you want is a good sleep. Come to 
headquarters with me. Everyone is anxious about 
you, and how you worked it.” 

“What the devil are you talking about. You 
don’t think I killed Diavolo, do you ?” 

“What— what then?” 

“I want to get away. I want to start over 
again, somewhere.” 


[Tears and Smiles 125; 

"And if your enemies pursue you, and you 
fail 

"I will hold out as long as I can. And if I 
fail, I’ll go elsewhere, and start again.” 

"How long do you think a man can endure 
that?” 

"To the end of the world.” 

"Then what’s the use of our craft?” 

"No use at all.” 

We entered a dingy stairway leading up to an 
Italian restaurant. There we met old Sollivano, 
who was apparently waiting for us. I never took 
the organization quite so seriously until now, 
when one met me at the station, and another 
awaited us both. I felt that someone must have 
posted them of my arrival, unless, indeed, they 
watched every train for me. 

Cordino ordered a bottle of claret. Sollivano 
asked for macaroni and cheese. I asked for an 
orange. 

My two companions had a whispered conversa- 
tion, in my presence. Then Sollivano asked : 

"How is the devil?” 

"Diavolo is about the same,” I understand. 

"The stray shot — and did it not kill? eh? what? 

Talk . How is he?” All this at the usual low 

breath. 

"I think he will recover this time again.” 

"Again !” 

"Look here. Signori,” I pleaded. "You are 
older and wiser men than the rest. You ought 
to help me get out of this, for good.” 

Not another word was uttered and again si- 
lence reigned, until we reached headquarters. 


126 


Tears and Smiles 


“Well, Sig'nore Biondo,” asked Cardellicchio, 
“did you get him?” 

“A higher law prevented me.” 

“Did he die before you came?” 

“He had run right into a stray bullet,” volun- 
teered old Sollivano, laughing and wringing his 
hands with some sort of joy. 

“No such thing,” I contradicted. “He is un- 
der surgical care.” 

“That’s all right. I hope the doctor will finish 
the job,” sighed the tough. 

“I don’t. I hope he will survive. He has a 
sick wife to live for. This is his seventh opera- 
tion — cancer — in the nose ” 

“And how is the wife?” inquired a dirty one. 

“Old, sick, bald, a living skeleton. Poor — no 
servant; she has to do the scrubbing and the 
cooking and the washing for the house. They 
never had very much, but they lost that. God 
bless them!” 

“Bless them!” shouted Cardellicchio, “no won- 
der Judge Macchinatore said you were crazy. 
And how is Signorina Maria?” 

“Mary — she is going out, working, every day, 
to help support the family,” I sighed. “There is 
a higher law.” 

Then the craft sang “Lihero Carbonari” ; and 
while they sang, Sollivano and Cordino took me 
by the arms and led me out, never again to enter 
the den of the Black Hand. 


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